



































































P. L. 123 


QFO 9—1455 































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■I 







MERRIE ENGLAND 


BY 


ROBERT BLATCHFORD 

n 

(NUNQUAM) 


EDITED BY ALEXANDER HARVEY 


‘Words ought not to be accepted because uttered by the lofty, nor rejected becaus® 
’♦tered by the lowly.”— Confucius. 


NEW YORK 

THE HUMBOLDT PUBLISHING CO. 

64 Fifth Avenue 

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TRANSFER 

D, C. PUBL 'f B1LAET 
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CHAPTER. PAGE 

I.—The Problem of Life. 5 

II.—The Practical School. 10 

III.—Town v. Country. 19 

IY.—The Life of the Worker. 29 

Y.—The Bitter Cost of a Bad System. 39 

YI.—Who Makes the Wealth and Who Gets It ?. 50 

YII.—Kent and Interest... 63 

VIII.—The Self-made Man. 71 

IX.—Industrial Competition.80 

X. —Waste. 90 

XI. —Cheapness. 97 

XII. —Socialism !. iu5 

XIII. —What are We to Do ?. 113 

XIY.—The Incentive of Gain. 120 

XY.—A House Divided Against Itself. 135 

XYI.—The Survival of the Fittest. 145 

XVII.—Socialism and Progress. 152 

XVIII.—Socialism and Slavery. 163 

XIX. —Industry. 172 

XX. —Environment. 180 

XXI. —The Rights of the Individual. 190 

XXII.—Luxury. 199 

XXIII.—Minor Questions. 215 

XXIY.— Paid Agitators. 224 

XXY.—Labor Representation. 232 

XXYI.—Is it Nothing to You ?. 237 






























PREFACE TO AMERICAN EDITION. 


This little book was sold throughout Great Britain to 
the extent of over 000,000 copies. That fact says more 
for it than any review could. Very few changes have 
been made in adapting the work to the needs of its 
American readers, and those changes have been clerical. 
English pounds and shillings are turned into American 
dollars and cents. Occasionally a sentence has been 
omitted. Chapter IV. of the English edition was left out, 
as being purely local in its bearings. 

Practically, then, Merrie England is here as its author 
wrote it. 


A. H. 































* 












MERRIE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 

We are lovers of the beautiful, yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate 
the mind without loss of manliness. Wealth we employ, not for talk and 
ostentation, but when there is real use for it. To avow poverty with us 
is no disgrace ; the true disgrace is in doing nothing to avoid it. An 
Athenian Citizen does not neglect the state because he takes care of his 
own household. We regard a man who takes no interest in public affairs 
not as harmless, but as a useless character. The great impediment to 
action is not discussion, but the want of that knowledge which is gained 
by discussion preparatory to action. We make friends by conferring, not 
by receiving favors. The love of honor alone is ever young, and not 
riches, as some say, but honor is the delight of men when they are old 
and useless.— Ihucydides. 

Dear Mr. Smith, I am sorry to hear that you look upon 
Socialism as a vile and senseless thing, and upon Social¬ 
ists as wicked or foolish men. 

Nevertheless, as you have good metal in yon, and are 
very numerous, I mean to argue the point with you. 

You are a stanch party man, and you pride yourself 
upon being “ a shrewd, hard-headed, practical man.” 
You would not pride yourself upon that, for you are nat¬ 
urally over modest, had you not been told by political 
orators that you are that kind of man. 

Hence you have come to believe that you “entertain a 
wholesome contempt for theories,” and have contracted 




6 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


a habit of calling for “ Facts ” in a peremptory manner, 
like a stage brigand calling for “ Wine.” 

Now, Mr. Smith, if you really are a man of hard, shrewd 
sense, we shall get on very well. I am myself a plain, 
practical man. I base my beliefs upon what I know and 
see, and respect “ a fact ” more than a million dollars. 

In these letters I shall stick to the hardest of hard facts, 
and the coldest of cold reason; and I shall appeal to that 
robust common sense and love of fair play for which, I 
understand, you are more famous than for your ability to 
see beyond the end of your free and independent nose at 
election times. 

I assume, Mr. Smith, that you, as a hard-headed, prac¬ 
tical man, would rather be well off than badly off, and 
that, with regard to your own earnings, you would rather 
be paid twenty shillings in the pound than four shillings 
in the pound. 

And I assume that, as a humane man, you would rather 
that others should not suffer, if their suffering can be 
prevented. 

If then, I assert that you are being defrauded, and that 
others, especially weak women and young children, are 
enduring much misery and wrong, and if I assert, farther, 
that I know a means whereby you may obtain justice, 
and they may secure peace, you will surely, as a kind and 
sensible man, consent to hear me. 

If your roof were leaky, or your business bad, if there 
were a plague in your city, and all regular remedies had 
failed, you would certainly give a hearing to any credit¬ 
able person who claimed to have found a cure. 

I don’t mean that you would accept his remedy with¬ 
out thinking about it; that would be foolish, but you 
would let him explain it, and if it seemed reasonable you 
would try it. 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


7 


To reject an idea because it is new is not a proof of 
shrewd sense, it is a proof of bigoted ignorance. Trade- 
unionism was new once, and was denounced by the very 
same people who now denounce the views I advocate. 
There were many prominent politicians and writers who 
declared the railway train and the telegraph to be impos¬ 
sible. There were many who condemned the Factory 
Acts. There were many who laughed at the idea of an 
Atlantic cable, and I remember when it was prophesied 
of the ballot that it would lead to anarchy and revolu¬ 
tion. 

To say that an idea is new is not to prove that it is 
untrue. The oldest idea was new once; and some of my 
ideas—as, for instance, the idea that justice and health 
are precious things—are considerably older than the 
House of Commons or Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Na¬ 
tions.” 

If you wish for an instance of the value of new ideas, 
Mr. Smith, get a good life of Charles Darwin, and another 
of George Stephenson, and read them. 

I ask you, then, as a practical man, to forget me, and 
to consider my arguments on their merits. 

But I must also ask you to forget yourself. One of the 
ancients, I think it was Pythagoras, said it was necessary 
to “ get out of the body to think.” That means that when 
a problem is before you you should not let any personal 
prejudice, or class feeling, come between that problem 
and your mind—that you should consider a case upon the 
evidence alone, as a jury should. 

Forget, then, that you are a joiner or a spinner, a 
Catholic or a Freethinker, a moderate drinker or a teeto¬ 
taler, and consider the problem as a man. 

If you had to do a problem in arithmetic, or if you were 
cast adrift in an open boat at sea, you would not set to 


8 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


work as a Wesleyan, or a free-trader ; but you would tackle 
the sum by the rules of arithmetic, and would row the boat 
by the strength of your own manhood, and keep a look¬ 
out for passing ships under any flag. I ask you, then, 
Mr. Smith, to hear what I have to say, and to decide by 
your own judgment whether I am right or wrong. 

Now then, what is the problem? I call it the problem 
of life. We have here a Country and a People. The prob¬ 
lem is—Given a Country and a People, find how the 
People may make the best of the Country and of Them¬ 
selves. 

First, then, as to the capacities of the country and the 
people. 

The country is fertile and fruitful, and well stored 
with nearly all the things that the people need. 

The people are intelligent, industrious, strong, and 
famous for their perseverance, their inventiveness and 
resource. 

It looks, then, as if such a people in such a country must 
certainly succeed in securing health, and happiness, and 
plenty for all. 

But we know very well that our people, or at least the 
bulk of them, have neither health, nor pleasure, nor plenty. 

These are facts / and so far, I assume, you and I are 
quite in accord. 

Now I assert that if the labor of the people were prop¬ 
erly organized and wisely applied, this country would, in 
return for very little toil, yield abundance for all. 

I assert that the labor of the people is not properly 
organized, nor wisely applied; and I undertake to show 
how it might and should be organized and applied, and 
what would be the results if it were organized and applied 
in accordance with my suggestions. 

The ideal of Society to-day is the ideal of individual 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


9 


effort, or competition. That is to say, every man for him¬ 
self. Each citizen is to try as hard as he can to get for 
himself as much money as he can, and to use it for his own 
pleasure, and leave it for his own children. 

That is the present personal ideal. The present na¬ 
tional ideal is to become “ The Workshop of the World.” 
That is to say, the British people are to manufacture goods 
for sale to foreign countries, and in return for those goods 
are to get more money than they could obtain by develop¬ 
ing the resources of their own country for their own use. 

My ideal is that each individual should seek his advan¬ 
tage in co-operation with his fellows, and that the people 
should make the best of their own country before attempt¬ 
ing to trade with other people’s. 

I propose, Mr. Smith, and I submit the proposal to you, 
who are a sensible and practical man, as a sensible and 
practical proposal, that we should first of all ascertain 
what things are desirable for our health and happiness of 
body and mind, and that we should then organize our 
people with the object of producing those things in the 
best and easiest way. 

The idea being to get the best results with the least 
labor. 

And, now, Mr. Smith, if you will read the following 
books for yourself, you will be in a better position to 
follow me in my future letters :— 

Thoreau’s “ Walden.” 

“ Problems of Poverty,” John Hobson, M. A. 

“ Industrial History of England,” H. de B. Gibbins, M. A. 

There are also a Fabian tract called “ Facts for Social¬ 
ists,” and a pamphlet called “Socialism,” a reply to the 
Pope, which will be useful. 


10 


MERRIE ENGLAND . 




CHAPTER II. 

THE PRACTICAL SCHOOL. 


Their lands also is full of silver and gold, neither is there any end of 
their treasures ; their land also is full of horses, neither is there any end 
of their chariots. Their lands also is full of idols : they worship the 
work of their own hands, that which their own fingers have made.— 
Isaiah. 

As I said in my first chapter, the problem we have to 
consider is:— 

Given a country and a people, find how the people may 
make the best of the country and themselves. 

Before we can solve this problem, we must understand 
the country and the people. We must find out their 
capacities; that is to say, what can be got from the coun¬ 
try ; what it will yield; and what can be got from our¬ 
selves ; what we can do and be. 

On these points I differ from the so-called practical 
people of the Manchester School, for I believe that this 
country will yield a great deal more of the good things 
of life than the people need ; and that the people can be 
much happier, healthier, richer, and better than they now 
are. 

But the Manchester School would have us believe that 
our own country is too barren to feed us, and that our 
people are too base and foolish to lead pure, wise, and 
honest lives. 

This is a difference as to facts. I will try, presently, 
to show you that the facts are in my favor. 

You, Mr. Smith, are a practical man; you have reason 


MEHRIE ENGLAND. 


11 


and judgment. Therefore you would do a pleasant thing 
in preference to an unpleasant thing. You would choose 
a healthy and agreeable occupation in preference to an 
unhealthy and disagreeable occupation. You would 
rather live in a healthy and agreeable place than in an 
unhealthy and disagreeable place. You would rather 
work four hours a day than twelve hours a day. You 
would rather do the things you would like to do, and 
have the things you wish for, than do the things you dis¬ 
like to do, and lack the things you wish for. 

You live in Oldham, and you are a spinner. If I ask 
you why you live in Oldham, and why you work in the 
factory, you will say that you do it in order to “ get a 
living.” 

I think also that you will agree with me on three points: 
Firstly, that Oldham is not a nice place to live in; sec¬ 
ondly, that the factory is not a nice place to work in; 
thirdly, that you don’t get as good a living as you desire. 

There are some things you do, which you would rather 
not do; and there are some things you wish for and can¬ 
not get. 

Now suppose we try to find out what are the things it 
is best for us to have, and which is the best and easiest 
way to get them. 

I hope that up to this point I have been quite clear, and 
practical, and truthful. 

Of course you have read Robinson Crusoe, You know 
that he was shipwrecked upon an island, and had to pro¬ 
vide for himself. He raised corn, tamed goats, dried 
raisins, built himself a house, and made vessels of clay, 
clothing of skins, a boat, and other useful things. If he 
had set to work making bead necklaces and feather fans 
before he secured food and lodging you would say he was 
a fool, and that he did not make the most of his time 


12 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


and his island. But what would you call him if he had 
starved and stinted himself in order to make bead neck¬ 
laces and feather fans for some other person who was 
too lazy to work ? 

Whatever you call him, you may call yourself, for you 
are wasting your time and your chances in the effort to 
support idle people and vain things. 

Now, to our problem. How are we to make the best of 
our country, and of our lives ? What things do we need 
in order to secure a happy, healthy, and worthy human 
life? 

We may divide the things needful into two kinds : 
Mental and physical. That is to say, the things needful 
for the body and the things needful for the mind. 

Here again I differ very much from the self-styled prac¬ 
tical people of the Manchester School. 

My ideal is frugality of body and opulence of mind. I 
suggest that we should be as temperate and as simple as 
possible in our use of mere bodily necessaries, so that we 
may have as much time as possible to enjoy pleasures 
of a higher, purer, and more delightful kind. 

Your Manchester School treat all Social and Industrial 
problems from the standpoint of mere animal subsistence. 
They do not seem to think that you have any mind. With 
them it is a question of bread and cheese and be thank¬ 
ful. They are like the man in “ Our Mutual Friend ” who 
estimated the needs of the ferryman’s daughter in beef 
and beer. It was a question, he said, “ of so many pounds 
of beef, and so many pints of porter.” That beef and 
that porter were “ the fuel to supply that woman’s en¬ 
gine,” and, of course, she was only to have just as much 
fuel as would keep the engine working at high pressure. 
But I submit to you that such an estimate would be an 
insult to a horse. 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


13 


Your Manchester School claim to be practical men, 
and always swear by facts. As I said before, I reverence 
facts; but I want all the facts ; not a few of them. If I 
am to give a verdict, I must hear the whole of the evi¬ 
dence. 

Suppose a gardener imagined that all a flower needed 
was earth and manure, and so planted his ferns on the 
sunny side and his peaches on the shady side of his garden. 
Would you call him a practical man ? 

You will see what I mean. Soil is a “ fact,” and manure 
is a “ fact.” But the habit of a plant is a “ fact” also, and 
so are sunshine and rain “ facts.” 

Turn, then, from plants to men, and tell me are appe¬ 
tites the only facts of human nature ? Do men need noth¬ 
ing but food, and shelter, and clothes ? 

It is true, that bread, and meat, and wages, and sleep 
are “ facts,” but they are not the only facts of life. Men 
have imaginations and passions as well as appetites. 

I must ask you to insist upon hearing all the evidence. 
I must ask you to use your eyes and ears, to examine 
your memory, to consult your own experience and the 
experience of the best and wisest men who have lived, and 
to satisfy yourself that although wheat and cotton and 
looms and ploughs and bacon and blankets and hunger and 
thirst and heat and cold are facts, they are not the only 
facts, nor even the greatest facts of life. 

For love is a fact, and hope is a fact, and rest, and 
laughter, and music, and knowledge are facts ; and facts 
which have to be remembered and have to be reckoned 
with before we can possibly solve the problem of how the 
people are to make the best of their country and them¬ 
selves. 

A life which consists of nothing but eating, and drink¬ 
ing, and sleeping, and working is not a human life—it is 


14 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


the life of a beast. Such a life is not worth living. If we 
are to spend all our days and nights in a kind of penal 
servitude, continually toiling and suffering in order to live 
we had better break at once the chains of our bitter 
slavery, and die. 

What, then, are the things needful for the body and the 
mind of man ? 

The bodily needs are two:— 

Health and Sustenance. 

The mental needs are three :— 

Knowledge, 

Pleasure, 

Intercourse. 

We will consider the bodily needs first, and we will 
begin by finding out what things ensure good bodily 
health. 

To ensure good health we must lead a “ natural ” life. 
The farther we get from nature,—the more artificial our 
lives become,—the worse is our health. 

The chief ends to health are pure air, pure water, pure 
and sufficient food, cleanliness, exercise, rest, warmth, 
and ease of mind. 

The chief obstacles to health are impure air, impure 
water, bad or insufficient food, gluttony, drunkenness, 
vice, dirt, heavy labor, want of rest, exposure, and anxiety 
of mind. 

The sure marks of good health are physical strength 
and beauty. 

Look at the statue of an Ancient Greek Athlete, and 
then at the form of a Modern Sweater’s Slave, and you 
will see how true this is. 

These are facts. Any doctor, or scientist, or artist, or 
athlete will confirm these statements. 

Now, I shall show you, later, that hardly any of our 


MEUBIE ENGLAND. 


15 


people lead natural and healthy lives. I shall show you 
that the average man might be very much healthier, 
handsomer, and stronger than he is ; and I shall show you 
that the average duration of life might easily be doubled. 

Next, as to Sustenance. There are four chief things 
needed to sustain life in a civilized community :— 

Food, 

Clothing, 

Shelter, and 
Fuel. 

All these things should be used temperately. Enough is 
better than a feast. Luxurious living is a bad and not a 
good thing. You know that when a man is training for 
any feat of strength or of endurance he takes plain and 
pure food, and abundant rest and exercise. A rowing 
man, a running man, a boxer, a cricketer, or an athlete 
of any kind would never think of training on turtle soup, 
game pies, and champagne. Again I say that any doctor, 
scientist, artist, or athletic trainer will endorse my state¬ 
ment. 

Now I shall show you, later, that our people are badly 
clothed, and badly fed, and badly housed. That some 
have more, but most have less, than is good for them; 
and that with a quarter of the labor now expended in 
getting improper sustenance we might produce proper 
sustenance, and plenty of it, for all. 

Meanwhile, let us consider the mental needs of life. 
These are 

Knowledge, Pleasure, and Intercourse. 

You may describe all these things as pleasures, or as 
recreations, if you choose. 

Of Knowledge there are almost numberless branches, 
and all of them fascinating. Modern science alone is a 
vast storehouse of interest and delight. Astronomy, 


16 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


physiology, botany, chemistry, these words sound dry 
and forbidding to the man who knows nothing at all of 
the science; but to the student they are more fascinating, 
more thrilling, and more marvellous than any romance. 

But science is only one branch of knowledge. There 
is literature, there is history, there are foreign countries 
and peoples, there are languages, and laws, and philoso¬ 
phies to interest and to inform us. Solomon spoke well 
when he said that wisdom is better than rubies. As a 
mere amusement the acquirement of knowledge is above 
price. But it has another value, it enables us to help our 
fellow-creatures, and to leave the world better than we 
found it. 

As for Pleasures their name is legion. There are such 
pleasures as walking, rowing, swimming, football, cricket. 
There are the arts and the drama. There are the beauties 
of nature. There are travel and adventure. Mere words 
cannot convey an idea of the intensity of these pleasures. 
Music alone is more delightful and more precious than 
all the vanities wealth can buy, or all the carnal luxuries 
that folly can desire. The varieties of pure and healthy 
pleasures are infinite. 

Then as to Intercourse. I mean by that all the exalta¬ 
tion and all the happiness that we can get from friend¬ 
ship, from love, from comradeship, and from family ties. 
These are amongst the best and the sweetest things that 
life can give. 

Now, Mr. Smith, you are a practical and a sensible man. 
I ask you to look about you and to think, and then to tell 
me what share of all these things falls to the share of the 
bulk.of the people; but especially to the share of the 
great working masses. 

In the average lot of the average workman how much 
knowledge and culture, and science and art, and music 


MEERIE ENGLAND. . 17 

and the drama, and literature and poetry, and field sports 
and exercise, and travel and change of scene ? 

You know very well that our working people get little 
of these things, and you know that such as they get are 
of inferior quality. 

Now I say to you that the people do not get enough of 
the things needful for body and mind, that they do not 
get them of the best, and that they do not get them be¬ 
cause they have neither money to pay for them nor leisure 
to enjoy them. 

I say, farther, that they ought to have and might have 
abundance of these things, and I undertake to show you 
how they can obtain them. 

We hear a great deal, Mr. Smith, about the “Struggle 
for Existence.” 

Well, I say there is no need for any “ struggle for ex¬ 
istence.” I have shown you what things are necessary 
to a happy and noble existence, and I say to you now that 
all these things can be easily and abundantly produced. 

Given our country and our people, I maintain that the 
people, if rightly organized and directed, can get from 
the country all that is good for them, with very little 
labor. 

The work needed to supply the bodily and mental needs 
above named is very slight. The best things of life— 
knowledge, art, recreation, friendship, and love—are all 
cheap; that is to say they can all be got with little 
labor. 

Why then the “ struggle for existence ” ? 

So far, Mr. Smith, I have, I hope, been practical and 
plain. I have indulged in no fine writing, I have used no 
hard words, I have kept close to facts. There has been 
nothing “ windy ” or “ sentimental” up to now. I shall 

be still more practical as we go on. 

2 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Tii the meantime, if you can find Ruskin’s Modern Paint¬ 
ers in your free library, I should advise you to read it. 

There are two other books that would be valuable; 
these are “ England’s Ideal,” by Edward Carpenter, and 
“Signs of Change,” by Win. Morris. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


19 


CHAPTER III. 

TOWN V. COUNTRY. 

I would not have the laborer sacrifice to the result. I would not have 
the laborer sacrificed to my convenience and pride, nor to that of a great 
class of such as me. Let there be worse cotton and better men. The 
weaver should not be bereaved of his superiority to his work.— Emerson. 

The substantial wealth of man consists in the earth he cultivates, with 
its pleasant or serviceable animals and plants, and in the rightly produced 
work of his own hands. . . . The material wealth of any country is 
the portion of its possessions which feed3 and educates good men and 

women in it.In fact it may be discovered that the true veins 

of wealth are purple—and not in Rock, but in Flesh—perhaps even that 
the final outcome and consummation of all wealth is in the producing as 
many as possible full-breathed, bright-eyed, and happy-hearted human 
creatures.— Ruskin. 

Before we begin this chapter I must ask you to keep in 
mind the fact that a man’s bodily wants are few. 

I shall be well outside the mark if I say that a full- 
grown healthy man can be well fed upon a daily ration of 

1 lb. of bread, 

1 lb. of vegetables, 

1 lb. of meat. 

Add to this a few groceries, a little fruit, some luxuries, 
in the shape of wine, beer, and tobacco; a shelter, a bed, 
some clothing, and a few tools and articles of furniture, 
and you have all the material things you need. 

Remember, also, that when you have got these things 
you have got all the material things you can use. A 
millionaire or a monarch could hardly use more, or if he 
did use more would use them to his hurt and not to his 
advantage. 


20 


MEJRRIE ENGLAND. 


You live in Oldham and work in the factory in order to 
get a living. “ A living ” consists of the things above 
named. 

I ask you, as a practical, sensible man, whether it is not 
possible to get those few simple things with less labor; 
and whether it is not possible to add to them health and 
the leisure to enjoy life and develop the mind ? 

The Manchester School will tell you that you are very 
fortunate to get as much as you do, and that he is a 
dreamer or a knave who persuades you that you can get 
more. 

The Manchester School is the Commercial School. The 
supporters of that school will tell you that you cannot 
prosper, that is to say you cannot “ get a living,” without 
the capitalist, without open competition, and without 
a great foreign trade. 

They will tell you that you would be very foolish to raise 
your own food stud's here in your own country, so long as 
you can buy them more cheaply from foreign nations. 
They will tell you that this country is incapable of pro¬ 
ducing enough food for her present population, and that 
therefore your very existence depends upon keeping the 
foreign trade in your hands. 

Now, I shall try to prove to you that every one of these 
statements is untrue. I shall try to satisfy you that:— 

1. The capitalist is a curse, and not a blessing. 

2. That competition is wasteful, and cruel, and 
wrong. 

3. That no foreign country can sell us food more 
cheaply than we can produce it ; and 

4. That this country is capable of feeding more 
than treble her present population. 

We hear a great deal about the value and extent of 
our foreign trade, and are always being reminded how 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


21 


much we owe to our factory system, and how proud of it 
we ought to be. 

I despise the factory system, and denounce it as a hid¬ 
eous, futile, and false thing. This is one of the reasons 
why the Manchester School call me a dreamer and a dan¬ 
gerous agitator. I will state my case to you plainly, and 
ask you for a verdict in accordance with the evidence. 

My reasons for attacking the factory system are :— 

1. Because it is ugly, disagreeable, and mechanical. 

2. Because it is injurious to public health. 

3. Because it is unnecessary. 

4. Because it is a danger to the national existence. 

The Manchester School will tell you that the destiny of 

this country is to become “The Workshop of the World.” 

I say that is not true; and that it would be a thing to 
deplore if it were true. The idea that this country is to 
be the “ Workshop of the World,” is a wilder dream than 
any that the wildest Socialist ever cherished. But if 
this country did become the “Workshop of the World” 
it would at the same time become the most horrible and 
the most miserable country the world has ever known. 

Let us be practical, and look at the facts. 

First, as to the question of beauty and pleasantness. 
You know the factory districts. I ask you is it not true 
that they are ugly, and dirty, and smoky, and disagree¬ 
able ? Compare the busy English towns of Lancashire, 
of Staffordshire, of Durham, and of South Wales, with 
the country towns of Surrey, Suffolk, and Hants. 

In the latter counties you will get pure air, bright skies, 
clear rivers, clean streets, and beautiful fields, woods, and 
gardens; you will get cattle and streams, and birds and 
flowers, and you know that all these things are well worth 
having, and that none of them can exist side by side with 
the factory system. 


22 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


I know that the Manchester School will tell you that 
this is mere “ sentiment.” But compare their actions with 
their words. 

Do you find the champions of the factory system despis¬ 
ing nature, and beauty, and art, and health—except in 
their speeches and lectures to you ? 

No. You will find these people living as far from the 
factories as they can get; and you will find them spend¬ 
ing their long holidays in the most beautiful parts of 
England, Scotland, Ireland, or the Continent. 

The pleasures they enjoy are denied to you. They 
preach the advantages of the factory system because they 
reap the benefits while you bear the evils. 

To make wealth for themselves they destroy the beauty 
and the health of your dwelling-places; and then they sit 
in their suburban villas, or on the hills and terraces of 
the lovely southern countries, and sneer at the “ senti¬ 
mentality ” of the men who ask you to cherish beauty 
and to prize health. 

Or they point out to you the value of the “ wages ” 
which the factory system brings you, reminding you that 
you have carpets on your floors, and pianos in your par¬ 
lors, and a week’s holiday once a year. 

But how much health or pleasure can you get out of a 
cheap and vulgar carpet ? And what is the use of a piano 
if you have neither leisure nor means to learn to play it ? 
And why should you prize that one week in the crowded, 
noisy watering-place, if health and fresh air and the great 
salt sea are mere sentimental follies ? 

And let me ask you is any carpet so beautiful or so 
pleasant as a carpet of grass and daisies ? Is the fifth- 
rate music you play upon your cheap pianos as sweet as 
the songs of the gushing streams and joyous birds ? And 
does a week at a spoiled and vulgar watering-place repay 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


23 


you for fifty-one weeks’ toil and smother in a hideous and 
stinking town ? 

As a practical man, would you of your own choice con¬ 
vert a healthy and beautiful country into an unhealthy 
and hideous country, just for the sake of being able once 
a year to go to Blackpool, and once a night to listen to a 
cracked piano ? 

Now I tell you, my practical friend, that you ought to 
have, and may have, good music, and good homes, and a 
fair and healthy country, and more of all the things that 
make life sweet; that you may have them at less cost of 
labor than you now pay for the privilege of existing in 
Oldham ; and that you can never have them if your land 
becomes the “Workshop of the World.” 

But the relative beauty and pleasantness of the factory 
and country districts do not need demonstration. The 
ugliness of one and the beauty of the other are not matters 
of sentiment nor of argument—they are matters of fact. 
The value of beauty is not a matter of sentiment: it is a 
fact. You would rather see a squirrel than a sewer rat. 
You would rather bathe in the Avon than in the Irwell. 
You would prefer the fragrance of a rose-garden to the 
stench of a sewage works. You would prefer woods to 
slums. 

As for those who sneer at beauty, as they spend fort¬ 
unes on pictures, on architecture, and on foreign tours, 
they put themselves out of court. 

Sentiment or no sentiment, beauty is better than ugli¬ 
ness, and health is better than disease. 

Now under the factory system you must sacrifice both 
health and beauty. 

As to my second objection—the evil effect of the factory 
system on the public health. What are the chief means 
to health ? 


24 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


Pure air, pure water, pure and sufficient food, cleanli¬ 
ness, exercise, rest, warmth, and ease of mind. 

What are the invariable accompaniments of the factory 
system ? 

Foul air, foul water, adulterated foods, dirt, long hours 


health map 


BRITISH 


reference. 

from »o To SLO 
per IOOO 

ABOVE 2 .5 
PER IOOO 



of sedentary labor, and continual anxiety as to wages 
and employment in the present, added to a terrible un¬ 
certainty as to existence in the future. 

Look through any great industrial town in the colliery, 
the iron, the silk, the cotton, or the woollen industries, 












MERRIE ENGLAND. 


25 


and you will find hard work, unhealthy work, vile air, 
overcrowding, disease, ugliness, drunkenness, and a high 
death-rate. These are facts. 

To begin with, I give you outline maps, copied from 



Bartholomew’s Gazetteer of the British Islands, which is 
the best work of its class extant. 

Map 1 shows the death-rates in the British Isles. 

Map 2 shows the distribution of manufactures in the 
British Isles. 

Examine these maps and you will find that where the 











2G 


MEBRIE ENGLAND. 


manufactures are the greatest the death-rate is the high¬ 
est, and the population the most dense. 

Turn from Bartholomew’s Gazetteer to the Registrar- 
General’s returns. The average death-rate for England 
and Wales from 1881 to 1890 was 19T in the thousand. 
The death-rate of Lancashire for the same period was 22*5 
per thousand. But to get a fair idea of the difference 
between town and country we must contrast Lancashire 
with the agricultural counties. Here are eight county 
death-rates from 1881 to 1890:— 


Surrey. 16-1 

Kent. 16-G 

Sussex. 15-7 

Hants. 1G-8 

Berks. 1G-2 

Wilts. 16-9 

Dorset. 1G-2 

Lancashire. 22-5 


In 1887, the latest year for which I have the figures, the 
death-rates in some of the principal Lancashire towns 
were:— 


Bolton. 21-31 

Oldham. 23-84 

Salford. 23-95 

Preston... 27-0 

Blackburn. 25-48 

Manshester. 28-67 


And in that year the average death-rate in Surrey and 
Sussex was 1G-3. 

Now observe the difference between Lancashire and 
Surrey. It is a difference of 6 to the thousand. Lanca¬ 
shire in 1881 contained 3J millions of people, or 3,500 
thousands, so that the excess of deaths in the cotton 
country reaches the total of 21,000. 

But again, in the Registrar-General’s returns for 1891 
















MERRIE ENGLAND. 


27 


I find two tables showing the annual deaths per 100,000 
of children under one year, for 1889, 1890,1891. The first 
table shows the figures for the three counties of Hertford, 
Wilts, and Dorset; the second for the three towns, Pres¬ 
ton, Leicester, and Blackburn. 


Three farming counties . 9,717 

Three manufacturing towns . 21,803 


That is to say that the death-rate of children in those 
three towns is more than twice as high as the death-rate 
of children in those three counties. 

But, again, Dr. Marshall, giving statistics of recruiting 
in this country, shows that not only were the country 
recruits taller than those from the towns, but he adds 
that “ in every case the men born in the country were 
found to have better chests than those born in towns, the 
difference in chest measurement being proportionately 
greater than the difference in stature.” According to 
Dr. Beddoe: 

The natives of Edinburgh and Glasgow are on an average from one to 
two inches shorter, and about fifteen to twenty pounds lighter than the 
rural population of various parts of Scotland. The statistics of the North¬ 
umberland Light Infantry give 5ft. 6in. as the height of the natives of New¬ 
castle ; while the rural volunteers have an average height of 5ft. 8in. to 
5ft. 10in., and are “ of course much heavier than the townsmen. ” 

Drs. Cliassage and Dally, in a work on gymnasia, give 
tables comparing the rustics and townsmen of France, 
which show the former to be taller and more robust. 
Indeed, as Mr. Gattie, in an article on the physique of 
European armies, says :— 

A glance at the tables suffices to show the physical superiority of the 
countrymen at all points. Looking more closely, we find that, although 
the townsmen who had followed outdoor pursuits were shorter and lighter 
than the rest, they were able to lift and carry much greater weights. 




28 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Again, the official statistics of Switzerland tell the same 
story, thus :— 

The butchers and bakers have much the best development, both of arm 
and chest ; the carpenters, blacksmiths, and masons coming next. The 
bakers are not so tall as the butchers, blacksmiths, and carpenters, and 
the masons are very much shorter, but their arms are proportionately 
better developed than those of the carpenters and blacksmiths. The 
agricultural laborers and cheesemen are next in order, and then follow 
the wheelwrights, saddlers, and sedentary operatives, “the weakest men 
of all being the weavers; ” while the tailors are the shortest and are 
scarcely less feeble. 

These are facts; and they seem to prove my second 
point, that the factory system is bad for the public 
health. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


29 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE LIFE OF THE WORKER. 

The people live in squalid dens, where there can be no health and no 
hope, but dogged discontent at their own lot, and futile discontent at the 
wealth which they see possessed by others .—Thorold Rogers. 

It is very evident what mean and sneaking lives many of you live, for 
my sight has been whetted by experience ; always on the limits, trying to 
get into business and trying to get out of debt, a very ancient slough, 
called by the Latins aes alienum, another’s brass, for some of their coins 
were made of brass ; still living, and dying, and buried by this other’s 
brass ; always promising to pay, promising to pay to-morrow, and dying 
to-day insolvent ; seeking to curry favor, to get custom, by how many 
modes—only not state-prison offences ; lying, flattering, voting, contract¬ 
ing yourselves into a nutshell of civility, or dilating into an atmosphere of 
thin and vaporous generosity, that you may persuade your neighbor to 
let you make his shoes, or his hat, or his coat, or his carriage, or import 
his groceries for him ; making yourselves sick that you may lay up some¬ 
thing against a sick day, something to be tucked away in an old chest or 
in a stocking behind the plastering, or more safely in the brick bank, no 
matter where, no matter how much or how little.— Thoreau. 

I feel sure that the time will come when people will find it difficult to 
believe that a rich community such as ours, having such command over 
external Nature, could have submitted to live such a mean, shabby, dirty 
life as we do.— Win. Morris. 

The problem of life is, “ Given a country and a people, 
show how the people can make the most of the country 
and themselves.” Before we go on, let us try to judge 
how far we have succeeded in answering the problem. 

The following are facts which no man attempts to 
deny:— 

1. Large numbers of honest and industrious 
people are badly fed, badly clothed, and badly 
housed. 


30 


M ERR IE ENGLAND. 


2. Many thousands of people die every year from 
preventable diseases. 

3. The average duration of life amongst the 
population is unnaturally short. 

4. Very many people, after lives of toil, are 
obliged to seek refuge in the workhouse, where 
they die despised and neglected, branded with the 
shameful brand of pauperism. 

5. It is an almost invariable rule that those who 
work hardest and longest in this country are the 
worst paid and the least respected. 

6. The wealthiest men in our nation are men who 
never did a useful day’s work. 

7. Wealth and power are more prized and more 
honored than wisdom, or industry, or virtue. 

8. Hundreds of thousands of men and women, 
willing to work, are unable to find employment. 

9. While on the one hand wages are lowered on 
account of over-production of coal, of cotton, and of 
corn, on the other hand many of our working people 
are short of bread, of fuel, and of clothing. 

10. Nearly all the land and property in this 
country are owned by a few idlers, and most of the 
laws are made in the interests of those few rich 
people. 

11. The national agriculture is going rapidly to 
ruin to the great injury and peril of the State. 

12. Through competition millions of men are em¬ 
ployed in useless and undignified work, and all the 
industrial machinery of the nation is thrown out of 
gear, so that one greedy rascal may overreach 
another. 

And we are told that all these things must remain as 
they are, in order that you may be able to “ get a living.” 


MER E IE ENGLAND. 


31 


What sort of a living do you get? 

Your life may be divided into four sections : Working, 
eating, recreation, and sleeping. 

As to work. You are employed in a factory for from 
53 to 70 hours a week. Some of your comrades work 
harder, and longer, and in worse places. Still, as a rule, 
it may be said of all your class that the hours of labor 
are too long, that the labor is monotonous, mechanical, 
and severe, and that the surroundings are often unhealthy, 
nearly always disagreeable, and in many cases dangerous. 

Do you know the difference between “work” and 
“toil”? It is the difference between the work of the 
gardener and the toil of the navvy—between the work 
of the wood carver and the toil of the wood chopper. 

We hear a good deal of talk about the idleness of the 
laboring classes and the industry of the professional 
classes. There is a difference in the work. The surgeon, 
or the sculptor, following the work of his choice , may well 
work harder than the collier, drudging for a daily wage. 

An artist loves his work, and sees in it the means of 
winning fame, perhaps fortune; an artisan sees in his 
toil a dull mechanical task, to be done for bread, but 
never to be made to yield pleasure, or praise, or profit. 

As a rule, your work is hard and disagreeable. 

Now, what are your wages ? 

I don’t mean how much a week do you get; but what 
life do you get as the reward of your toil ? 

The question is how do you live? What will your 
money buy? 

As I have shown already, you do not get enough leis¬ 
ure, nor enough fresh air, nor enough education, nor 
enough health, and your town is very ugly and very dirty 
and very dull. But let us go into details. 

I have often seen you turn up your nose with scorn at 


32 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


the sight of a gypsy. Yet the gypsy is a healthier, a 
stronger, a braver, ancl a wiser man than you, and lives 
a life more pleasant and free and natural than yours. 

Not that the gypsy is a model citizen; but you may 
learn a great deal from him ; and I doubt whether there 
is anything he could learn from you. 

And now let us see how you live. First of all, in the 
matter of food. Your diet is not a good one. It is not 
varied enough, and nearly all the things you eat and drink 
are adulterated. 

I am much inclined to think that a vegetarian diet is 
the best, and I am sure that alcholic liquors are unneces¬ 
sary. But this by the way. If you do drink beer and 
spirits, it would be better to have them pure. At present 
nearly all your liquors are abominable. 

But there is one thing about your diet worse even than 
the quality of the food, and that is the cookery. Mrs. 
Smith is an excellent woman, and I hereby make my 
bow to her, but she does not know what cookery means. 

John Smith, it is a solemn and an awful truth, one 
which it pains me to utter, but you never ate a beefsteak, 
and you never saw a cooked potato. 

God strengthen thy digestion, John, ’tis sore tried. 
Oh, the soddened vegetables, the flabby fish, the leathery 
steak, and the juiceless joint, I know them. Alas! Cook¬ 
ery is an art, and almost a lost art in this country; or 
shall we say, an art unfound ? 

Poor Mrs. Smith gets married and faces the paste-board 
and the oven with the courage of desperation, and the 
hope of ignorance. She resembles the young man who 
had never played the fiddle, but had no doubt he could 
plaj r it if he tried. And sometimes he does try, and so 
Mrs. Smith tries to cook. 

From food we will turn to clothing. Oh, it is pitiful. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


33 


Do you know the meaning of the words “ form ” and 
“ color ” ? Look at our people’s dress. Observe the cut 
of it, the general drabness, grayness, and gloom. Those 
awful black bugles, those horrific sack coats, those deadly 
hats and bonnets, and they do say, that crinoline—All, 
heaven! That we should call these delicate creatures 
ours and not their fashion plates. The dresses, but es¬ 
pecially the Sunday clothes, of the working classes are 
things too sad for tears. 

Costume should be simple, healthy, convenient, and 
beautiful. Modern costume is none of these. 

This is chiefly because the fashion of our dress is left 
to fops and tailors, whereas it ought to be left to artists 
and designers. 

But beside the ugliness of your dress, it is also true 
that it is mean. It is mean because hardly anything you 
wear is what it pretends to be, because it is adulterated 
and jerry-made, and because it is insufficient. Yes, in 
nearly all your houses there is, despite our factory sys¬ 
tem, a decided scarcity of shirts and socks and sheets and 
towels and table linen. 

Come we now to the home. Your houses are not what 
they should be. I do not allude to the inferior cottage— 
that is beneath notice. Here in my town we have some 
forty thousand houses unfit for habitation. But let us 
consider the abode of the more fortunate artisan. It has 
many faults. It is badly built, badly arranged, and badly 
fitted. The sanitation is bad. The rooms are much too 
small. There are no proper appliances for cleanliness. 
The windows are not big enough. There is a painful 
dearth of light and air. The cooking appliances are sim¬ 
ply barbarous. 

Again, the houses are very ugly and mean. The streets 
are too narrow. There are no gardens. There are no 

3 


34 


MEREIE ENGLAND. 


trees. Few working-class families have enough bedrooms, 
and the bathroom is a luxury not known in small tene¬ 
ments. 

In fine, your houses are ugly, unhealthy, inconvenient, 
dark, ill-built, ill-fitted, and dear. 

This is due, in a great measure, to the cost of land. I 
will tell you soon why land is so expensive. 

Moreover, instead of your making the most of your 
room you will persist in crowding your house with hideous 
and unnecessary furniture. Furniture is one of your 
household gods. You are a victim to your furniture, and 
your wife is a slave. Did it ever occur to you that your 
only use for the bulk of your household goods is to clean 
them ? It is so, and yet you keep on striving to get more 
and more furniture for your wife to wait upon. 

Just cast your eye over the following description of a 
Japanese house, John, and see if it does not suggest some¬ 
thing to you; and do read “ Walden.” If you read it well 
it will save you much money in furniture, and your wife 
much toil in acting as a slave to the sideboard and best 
parlor suite:— 

Simplicity and refinement are the essential characteristics of life in 
Japan, observes the Hospital. The houses, which are spacious, are con¬ 
structed without foundations. Light wooden uprights resting on flat 
stones support the thatched or tiled roof. The walls, both outside and 
those which divide the rooms, are formed of latticed panels which slide 
over one another, or can be removed altogether if desired. These panels 
are filled with translucent paper. At night the house is closed in with 
wooden shutters. The rooms, winch are raised about a foot above the 
ground, are covered with soft padded matting kept spotlessly clean. In 
the centre of the living room is a shallow, square pit lined with metal and 
filled with charcoal, for the purposes of cooking and warming, or the 
rooms are warmed with movable metal braziers. There is no furniture 
present , no chairs, tables, beds, chests of drawers, pictures, or knick-knacks. 
The matted floor serves alike for chairs, table, and bed. To keep it abso¬ 
lutely clean, all boots, shoes, and sandals are left on the ground outside. 
The absence of furniture means the absence of many cares, and as two 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


35 


wooden chopsticks and small lacquer bowls serve for all the purposes of 
eating, there is no need for plate, glass, knives, forks, spoons, dinner serv¬ 
ices, and table linen. Thus life is simplified, though it loses at the same 
time none of its refinement, for no people can be more dainty and partic¬ 
ular in their food, more neat and beautiful in dress, and more courteous 
and self-restrained in manner than the Japanese, Kneeling on the floor 
all work is done, and at night time the padded quilts or futons are spread 
on the matting, and, with one quilt beneath and another above, sleep can 
be enjoyed as comfortably as in bed. Before the evening meal is taken, it 
is the invariable custom throughout Japan for every member of the house¬ 
hold to take a dip in the family bath, which is heated to a temperature of 
110 deg. to 120 deg., at which heat it is found to be very refreshing. 

Poor Mrs. John Smith, her life is one long slavery. 
Cooking, cleaning, managing, mending, washing clothes, 
waiting on husband and children, her work is never done. 
And amid it all she suffers the pains and anxieties of 
childbearing, and the suckling of children. There are no 
servants, and few workers, so hard-wrought and so ill- 
paid as the wife of an artisan. What are her hours of labor, 
my trade union friends ? What pleasure has she, what 
rest, what prospect ? 

Cannot be helped, do you say ? Nonsense. Do you 
suppose the Japanese wife works as your wife works? 
Not at all. My dear John, in your domestic as in your 
industrial and political affairs, all that is needed is a little 
common sense. We are living at present in a state of 
anarchy and barbarism, and it is your fault, and not the 
fault of the priest and politicians who dupe and plunder 
you. 

And now we come to the last item in your life, you 
recreation. Here, Mr. Smith, you are very badly served. 
You have hardly anything to amuse you. Music, art, 
athletics, science, the drama, and nature are almost denied 
to you. A few cheerless museums filled with Indian war 
clubs, fag ends of tapestry, and dried beetles ; a few third- 
rate pictures, a theatre or two where you have choice 


36 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


between vulgar burlesque and morbid melodrama, a 
sprinkling of wretched music (?) halls, one or two sleepy 
night-schools, a football field and sometimes—for the bet¬ 
ter paid workers—a cricket ground, make up the sum of 
your life’s pleasures. Well—yes, there are plenty of 
public-houses, and you can gamble. The betting lists and 
racing news have a corner in all the respectable papers. 

One of the most palpable and painful deficiencies, John, 
in all your towns is the deficiency of common-land, of 
open spaces. This is because land is so dear. Why is 
land dear ? I will tell you by and by. 

The chief causes of the evils I have pointed out to you, 
John, are competition, monopoly, and bad management. 
There is a pamphlet, called “ Milk and Postage Stamps,” 
by “ Elihu.” Read it. It shows you the waste of labor 
that comes of competition. 

Go into any street and you will see two or three carts 
delivering milk. A cart, a pony, and a man to carry 
milk to a few houses; and one postman serves a whole 
district; as one milkman and one horse could, were it 
not for competition. 

Again, in each house there is a woman cooking a dinner 
for one family, or washing clothes for one family. And 
the woman is over-worked, and the cooking is badly done, 
and the house is made horrible by steam and the odors 
of burnt fat. So with all the things we do and use. We 
have two grocers’ shops next door to each other, each 
with a staff of servants, each with its own costly fixtures. 
Yet one big store would do as well, and would save half 
the cost and labor. Fancy a private post-office in every 
street. How much would it cost to send a letter then? 

So now let me tell you roughly what 1 suggest as an 
improvement on things as they now are. 

First of all I would set men to work to grow wheat 


MERR IE ENGLAND. 


37 


and fruit and rear cattle and poultry for our own use. 
Then I would develop the fisheries and construct great 
fish-breeding lakes and harbors. Then I would restrict 
our mines, furnaces, chemical works, and factories to the 
number actually needed for the supply of our own people. 
Then I would stop the smoke nuisance by developing 
water power and electricity. 

In order to achieve these ends I would make all the 
land, mills, mines, factories, works, shops, ships, and rail¬ 
ways the property of the people. 

I would have the towns rebuilt with wide streets, with 
detached houses, with gardens and fountains and avenues 
of trees. I would make the railways, the carriage of 
letters, and the transit of goods as free as the roads and 
bridges. 

I would make the houses loftier and larger, and clear 
them of all useless furniture. I would institute public 
dining halls, public baths, public wash-houses on the best 
plans, and so set free the' hands of those slaves—our 
women. 

I would have public parks, public theatres, music halls, 
gymnasiums, football and cricket fields, public halls and 
public gardens for recreation and music and refreshment. 
I would have all our children fed and clothed and 
educated at the cost of the State. I would have them all 
taught to play and to sing. I would have them all 
trained to athletics and to arms. I would have public 
halls of science. I would have the people become their 
own artists, actors, musicians, soldiers, and police. Then, 
by degrees I would make all these things free. So that 
clothing, lodging, fuel, food, amusement, intercourse, 
education, and all the requirements for a perfect human 
life should be produced and distributed and enjoyed by 
the people without the use of money. 


38 


ME BRIE ENGLAND. 


Now, Mr. John Smith, practical and hard-headed man, 
look upon the two pictures. You may think that mine 
represents a state of things that is unattainable; but 
you must own that it is much fairer than the picture of 
things as they are. 

As to the possibility of doing what I suggest, we will 
consider all that in a future chapter. At present ask 
yourself two questions :— 

1. Is life as happy as it might be ? 

2. Is my life—Merrie England—a better place 
than the England in which we now live ? 


MEliRIE ENGLAND. 


39 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE BITTEIl COST OF A BAD SYSTEM. 

Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere igno¬ 
rance and mistake, aro so occupied with factitious cares and superfluously 
coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them. Their 
fingers, from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that. 
Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; 
he cannot afford to sustain the manliest relations to me ; his labor would 
bo depreciated in the market. He has no time to be anything but a 
machine. How can he remember well his ignorance—which his grow thre- 
quires—who has so often to use his knowledge ? We should feed and clothe 
him gratuitously sometimes, and recruit him with our cordials before we 
judge of him. The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, 
can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat 
ourselves nor one another thus tenderly.— Thoreciu. 

And I believe that this claim for a healthy body for all of us carries with 
it all other due claims; for who knows where the seeds of disease, which 
even rich people suffer from, were first sown ? From the luxury of an 
ancestor, perhaps; yet often, I suspect, from his poverty.— Wm. Morris. 

I have been asked to contribute to the purchase of the Alexandra Park, 
and I will not; and beg you, my working readers, to understand, once for 
all, that I wish your homes to be comfortable, and refined; and that I will 
resist to the utmost of my power, all schemes founded on the vile modern 
notion that you are to bo crowded in kennels till you are nearly dead, that 
other people may make money by your work, and then taken out in squads 
by tramway and railway, to be revived and refined by science and art. Your 
first business is to make your homes healthy and delightful; then, keep 
your wives and children there, and lot your return to them be your daily 
“ holy-day.”— RusJdn. 


The chief struggle of your life, Mr. Smith, is the strug¬ 
gle to get a living. The chief object of these letters is to 
convince you of three facts :— 


40 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


1. That with all your labor and anxiety you do 
not get a good living. 

2. That you might and should get a good living 
with a third of the trouble you now take to keep 
out of a pauper’s suit. 

3. That though you worked twenty hours a day 
and piled the earth with wealth you could have 
no more than a good living out of all the wealth 
you produced. 

Nature declares, Mr. Smith, that a man shall live tem¬ 
perately, or suffer for it; Nature also declares that a man 
shall not live very long. So that in the richest state a 
citizen can enjoy no more than a natural amount, and 
that a small one, of material things, nor can he enjoy those 
for many years. 

In short, the material needs of life are few and easily 
supplied. 

But the range of the spiritual and intellectual pleasures 
and capacities is very wide. That is to say that the 
pleasures and powers of the mind are practically bound¬ 
less. 

The great nation is not the nation with the most wealth; 
but the nation with the best men and women. 

Now the best part of man is his mind, therefore the 
best men and women are those with the best minds. 

But in this country, and at this time, the bulk of the 
people do not cultivate their minds. 

We have here, in the untrained, unused minds of a 
noble race of people an immense power for greatness lying 
fallow, like an unfilled field. This is a more serious 
national loss, as I hope to show you, than if all our 
mines and farms had never been “opened up to com¬ 
merce.” 


ME ERIE ENGLAND. 41 

Well, my ideal, as I said before, is Frugality of Body 
and Opulence of Mind. 

I propose to make our material lives simple; to spend 
as little time and labor as possible upon the production of 
food, clothing, houses, and fuel, in order that we may have 
more leisure. 

And I propose to employ that leisure in the enjoyment 
of life and the acquirement of knowledge. 

It is as though I said, “ You have in each day 24 hours. 
You give 8 hours to sleep, 10 or 12 to work (‘earning a 
living ’), and the rest, or most of it, to folly ; go, then, and 
of your sixteen waking hours spend but four in ‘ getting 
a living,’ and the other twelve in pleasure and in learn¬ 
ing.” 

Before I attempt to show you in detail how I think you 
might profitably spend your leisure time, allow me to call 
your attention to some of the ways in which you now 
waste your time; yes, and waste your labor also. 

We will begin by a brief inquiry into the ordinary 
domestic waste of time and labor and money that goes on 
in an average working class home. 

In my last letter I spoke of the drudgery of Mrs. Smith’s 
life. You know that each family has its own dinner 
cooked daily; that each wife has her own washing day 
and baking day; that she has her own cooking range and 
implements ; and that she makes a special journey to the 
shops once a day, or once a week, and buys her food and 
other necessaries in small quantities. 

Take a working-class street of one hundred houses. 
Consider the waste therein. For the convenience of one 
hundred families you have 

One hundred small inconvenient wash-kitchens. 
One hundred ditto ditto ovens. 

One hundred ditto ditto drying-grounds. 


42 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


One hundred wringing machines—turned by hand. 

You have one hundred dinners to cook every day. You 
have, every week, one hundred miserable washing days; 
you have one hundred women going out to buy a pound 
of tea and sugar, or other trifles. 

Consider the cost of the machines, the cost of coal, the 
labor and the trouble of the wives expended. 

Now cast your eyes over these extracts. This is from 
“Problems of Poverty,” by John A. Hobson, M. A. 

The poor, partly of necessity, partly by habit, make their purchases in 
minute quantities. A single family has been known to make seventy-two 
distinct purchases of tea within seven weeks, and the average purchases 
of a number of poor families for the same period amount to twenty- 
seven. Their groceries aro bought largely by the ounce, their meat or fish 
by the halfpenny-worth, their coal by the hundredweight or even by the 
pound. 

This is from the same book:— 

Astounding facts are adduced as to the prices paid by the poor for com¬ 
mon articles of consumption, especially for vegetables, dairy produce, 
groceries, and coal. The price of fresh vegetables, such as carrots, 
parsnips, etc., in East London is not infrequently ten times the price at 
which the same articles can be purchased wholesale from the growers. 

This is from “ The Co-operative Movement To-Day,” by 
G. J. Holyoake: 

It may be assumed that 100 shops earn on an average £2 a week, or 
£100 a year ; thus the hundred shops would earn £10,000 a year. Thus 
it is evident that every 4,000 poor families in a town actually pay £10,000 a 
year for having their humble purchases handed to them over a counter. 

And Mr. Holyoake proceeds to show how by establishing 
one great central store the great bulk of this loss would 
be saved. 

I said to you, when I began these articles, that I am a 
practical man, and speak from what I have seen. I know 
all about those small purchases, and big prices. I have 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


43 


picked up half-a-dozen empty bottles off as many ashpits, 
when a child, and sold them for a penny to buy coal. I 
have gone out many a time to buy a quarter of an ounce of 
tea and a farthing’s worth of milk. They taught stern 
lessons in my school. 

Now let me describe a different kind of experience, in a 
different school. 

A company of soldiers numbers from eighty to a 
hundred men. The allowance of food to each man is fib. 
of meat and 1 lb. of bread. But besides that each man 
pays 3d. a day for “ groceries,” consisting of tea, coffee, 
milk, vegetables, and extra bread. 

Now, if each man had a separate kitchen and cooked 
his own meals, that would mean a great waste of room 
and money and time, and it would also mean very poor 
feeding. 

But each company strikes a man off duty as cook, and 
there is a general kitchen, where the cooks of the whole, 
or sometimes half the battalion prepare the meals. The 
result is better and cheaper messing and less labor and 

dirt. 

Take, again, the case of a sergeants’ mess. The ser¬ 
geants have the same ration—1 lb. of bread and f lb. of 
meat a day, and they pay about 12 cents a day for “ mess¬ 
ing.” One sergeant is appointed “caterer,” and his duty 
is to expend the messing money and superintend the 
messing. He is, in fact, a kind of temporary landlord, or 
club steward. 

I often filled that place, and I found that when, as 
occurred on detachment, we had only five or six sergeants 
in mess, it was very difficult to feed them on the money; 
but at headquarters, with thirty in mess, we could live 
well and afford luxuries on the same allowance per head. 

With these facts in our mind, let us go back to our 


44 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


street of one hundred working-class families. Suppose, 
instead of keeping up the wasteful system I described, 
we abolish all those miserable and imperfect drying- 
grounds, wringing machines, wash-kitchens, and kitchen- 
ranges, and arrange the street on communal lines. 

We set up one laundry, with all the best machinery; 
we set up one big drying-field; we set up one great kitch¬ 
en, one general dining-hall, and one pleasant tea-garden. 
Then we buy all the provisions and other things in large 
quantities, and we appoint certain wives as cooks and 
laundresses, or, as is the case with many military duties, 
we let the wives take the duties in turn. Don’t you see 
how much better and how much cheaper the meals would 
be ? Don’t you see how much easier the lives of our poor 
women would be ? Don’t you see how much more com¬ 
fortable our homes would be ? Don’t you see how much 
more sociable and friendly we should become ? 

So with the housework when w r e had simple houses and 
furniture. Imagine the difference between the cleaning 
of all the knives by a rapid knife machine turned by an 
engine, and the drudgery of a hundred wives scrubbing 
at a hundred clumsy knifeboards. 

I need not go into greater detail; you can elaborate the 
the idea for yourself. Let us now turn from domestic to 
commercial w r aste. 

Commercial waste is something appalling. The cause of 
commercial waste is competition. The chief channels of 
commercial waste are account-keeping, bartering, and 
advertising. If v r e produced goods simply for vse instead 
of for sale, we should save all this waste. But consider 
the immense number of cashiers, bookkeepers, clerks, 
salesmen, shopmen, accountants, commercial travellers, 
agents, and advertisement canvassers employed in our 
trade. 


METtRIE ENGLAND. 


45 


Take the one item of advertisement alone. There are 
draughtsmen, paper-makers, printers, bill-posters, paint¬ 
ers, carpenters, gilders, mechanics, and a perfect army of 
other people all employed in making advertisement bills, 
pictures, hoardings, and other abominations—for whatf 

To enable one soap or patent-medicine dealer to secure 
more orders than his rival. I believe I am well within 
the mark when I say that some firms spend $ 500,000 
a year in advertisements. 

And who pays it? You pay it; you , the practical, 
hard-headed, shrewd workman. You pay for everything, 
you silly fellow. 

There is another element of waste, which consists in 
the production of useless things; but of that I will speak 
at another time. 

I will also show you in a future letter, how the same 
competition which causes waste causes also a wicked 
obstruction of progress. At present just consider these 
questions. Why do gas companies oppose the establish¬ 
ment of electric-lighting companies ? Is it because they 
think gas is the better light? Ilev, John? 

I said just now that we would consider the question of 
how to employ the leisure we should secure in a well- 
ordered state. Let us get an idea what that leisure would 
he. 

At present less than one-third of the population are 
engaged in producing necessaries. 

This one-third of the people produce enough neces¬ 
saries for all. 

Now take the sum in two ways. If one-third produce 
enough for all, then three-thirds will produce three times 
as much as we need. Or, if one-third produce enough 
for all by working nine hours a day, then three-thirds will 
produce enough for all by working three hours a day. 


46 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


So we shall have plenty of leisure. What are we to da 
with it? 

One use for it is the acquirement of knowledge. I will 
give you two very striking examples of the kind of work 
that needs doing. 

Take, first, the Germ theory of disease. I am a very 
ignorant man, and can only offer hints. Read this:— 

If t.ho particular microbe of each contagious disease were known, tko 
conditions of its life and activity understood, and the circumstances de¬ 
structive of its life ascertained, there is great probability that its multipli¬ 
cation might be arrested and the disease caused by it be abolished. 

Consumption, typhoid and typhus fevers, cholera, and 
many other plagues are spread by small creatures called 
microbes. At present we do not know enough about 
these microbes to exterminate them. That is one thing 
well worth finding out. 

Take next the subject of agricultural chemistry. Read 
this:— 

In studying the utilization of vegetable products for obtaining the vari¬ 
ous animal matters which are used as food, etc., agricultural chemistry 
enters into a higher and more difficult field. Although many useful prac¬ 
tical results have been obtained, this department of our knowledge is ex¬ 
tremely incomplete. 

You remember what I told you about the yield of the 
land. Given a thorough knowledge of agricultural chem¬ 
istry, and there is no ^doubt that we might produce more 
food with less labor. So that is another thing worth know¬ 
ing. 

Now I know your absurd modesty, John Smith, and 
how ready you are to despise your own efforts; and I 
can almost hear you saying, “ What can ignorant men like 
us do in these difficult sciences ? ” 

But, John, I don’t flatter you, as you know, but you 


MERBIE ENGLAND. 


47 


have brains, and good brains, if you only had the chance 
to use them. Sometimes a few of you do get a chance to 
use them. There was William Smith, the greatest Eng¬ 
lish geologist, he was a poor farmer’s son, and chiefly 
self-taught; there was Sir William Ilerschel, the great 
astronomer, he played the oboe in a watering-place band; 
there were Faraday, the bookbinder, and Sir Humphrey 
Davy, the apothecary’s apprentice, both great scientists; 
there were James Watt the mathematical instrument 
maker, and George Stephenson the collier, and Arkwright 
the barber, and Jacquard the weaver, and John Hunter 
the great anatomist, who was a poor Scotch carpenter. 
Those men did some good in science; and why not 
others ? 

Ah! Why not ? That is the question. The common 
people are like an untilled, unwatered, and unweeded 
garden. No one has yet studied or valued the capacities 
of men. We know that some few of the Hunter and 
Herscliel stamp have come out well, and some of us think 
that when a man has brains he must come out well; but 
that is a mistake. Only here and there, chiefly by good 
luck, does one of our clever poor men succeed in being use¬ 
ful, and in developing his force—or part of it. 

I will speak from personal experience. I know several 
men, poor and unknown, who have in them great capacity. 
I have now in my mind’s eye a young man, who might 
have been a very fine writer. But he is poor, and he has 
no knowledge of writing, no knowledge of style or gram¬ 
mar, and if he had would find it very difficult to get 
work. 

I once knew a blacksmith, a man of strong character, 
of great probity, a born orator, a man of intellect. Often 
I have heard him, as he beat on the red iron, beat out 
also, in rough homely language, most beautiful and forci- 


48 


ME]\IiIE ENGLAND. 


ble thoughts. John, he could not read or write. He was 
of middle-age, he had a large family, he did not suspect 
that he was clever. 

Take my own case. I became a writer by accident— 
by a series of accidents—and not that until I was thirty- 
four. And I have done fairly well, and have been very 
lucky. But I am sure I should have done better at a 
quite different kind of work. And I am sure that if my 
mother had not taught me to read and encouraged me to 
love literature, I should never have been a writer at all. 

But suppose my mother had died when my father died, 
or suppose she had been an ignorant woman, or a care¬ 
less one. Where would Nunquam have gone to? He 
would probably be now in the grave, or in a prison. Yet 
he would have taken with him to the churchyard or the 
treadmill the same mind that is now struggling with this 
task—a task too great for it—the task of persuading 
John Smith, of Oldham, to do his duty as a husband, as 
a father, as a citizen, and as a man. 

So consider, what chance have the poor? Education 
is so dear. The sciences and the arts are locked up, and 
the privileged classes hold the key; and down in Ancoats 
and the Seven Dials the wretched mothers feed our young 
Faradays and Miltons on gin, and send them out ignorant 
and helpless to face the winter wind and the vice and 
disease of the stews. 

It makes me angry when I think of it, and I must be 
calm and practical, because you, John Smith, are such a 
shrewd, hard-headed man—God help you. 

John, John Smith, of Oldham, remember what noble 
men and women have come from the ranks of the common 
people. 

Now, at present the working people of this country live 
under conditions altogether monstrous. Their labor is 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


49 


much too heavy, their pleasures are too few, and in their 
close streets and crowded houses decency and health and 
cleanliness are well-nigh impossible. 

It is not only the wrong of this that I resent, it is the 
waste. Look through the slums, John, and see what child¬ 
hood, girlhood, womanhood, and manhood have there 
become. Think what a waste of beauty, of virtue, of 
strength, and of all the power and goodness that go to 
make a nation great is being consummated there by igno¬ 
rance and by injustice. 

For, depend upon it every one of our brothers or sisters 
ruined or slain by poverty or vice, is a loss to the nation 
of so much bone and sinew, of so much courage and skill, 
of so much glory and delight. 

Cast your eyes, then, my practical friend, over the 
Registrar-General’s returns, and imagine if you can how 
many gentle nurses, good mothers, sweet singers, brave 
soldiers, and clever artists, inventors, and thinkers are 
swallowed up every year in that ocean of crime and 
sorrow, which is known to the official mind as “ The high 
death-rate of the wage-earning classes.” 

Alas, John, the pity of it. 

Well, I want to stop that waste, my practical friend. I 
want to give those cankered flowers light and air, and 
clear their roots of weeds. 

And in my “Merrie England” there will be great 
colleges for the study of science, and the training of the 
people, so that the whole force of the national mind may 
be brought to bear upon those important questions of 
agriculture, of manufactures, and of medicine, which are 
now but partly understood, because it is the rich and not 
the clever who consider them, and because they only work 
selfishly and secretly, in opposition instead of in mutual 
helpfulness. 

4 


50 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER VI. 

WHO MAKES THE WEALTH, AND WHO GETS IT? 

The old original capitalist who has rested from his labors, and whose 
works do follow him—creative, frugal, and laborious—he looms ever “ at 
the back of the beyond.” It is a beautiful conception, this of the first 
capitalist, and only shows that poetry, like hope, springs eternal in the 
human breast—even the economical breast. Like Prester John and the 
Wandering Jew, he has a weird charm about him that almost makes one 
love him. But our reverence for an old legend must not blind us to 
historical fact, to wit, that the real origin of modern capital is to be found 
in the forcible expropriation of the peasantry from the soil, in oppressive 
laws to keep down wages, in the plunder and enslavement of the inhabit- 
tants of the New World and of Africa, in the merciless over-working of 
children in factories, etc., etc.— Belfort Bax. 

As soon as land becomes private property, the landlord demands a share 
of almost all the produce which the laborer can either raise or collect 
from it. His rent makes the first deduction from the produce of the 
labor employed upon land. . . . 

As soon as the land of any country has all become private property, the 
landlords, like all other men, love to reap where they never sowed, and 
demand a rent, even for its natural produce. . . .— Adam Smith. 

How contempt of human rights is the essential element in building up 
the great fortunes whose growth is such a marked feature of our develop¬ 
ment we have already seen. And just as clearly may we see that from 
the same cause spring poverty and pauperism. The tramp is the comple¬ 
ment of the millionaire. —Henry George. 

In a rude and violent state of society it continually happens that the 
person who has capital is not the very person who has saved it, but some 
one who, being stronger, or belonging to a more powerful community, has 
possessed himself of it by plunder. And even in a state of things several 
degrees more advanced, the increase of capital has been in a great 
measure derived from privations which, though essentially the same with 
saving, are not generally called by that name, because not voluntary. 
The actual producers have been slaves, compelled to produce as much as 
force could extort from them, and to consume as little as self-interest, or 
the usually very slender humanity of their task-masters would permit.— 
Jno. Stuart MiU. 

Now, John, what are the evils of which we complain? 


ME ERIE ENGLAND. 


51 


Lowness of wages, length of working hours, uncertainty 
of employment, insecurity of the future, low standards of 
public health and morality, prevalence of pauperism and 
crime, and the existence of false ideals of life. 

I will give you a few examples of the things I mean. 
It is estimated that in England, with its population of 
thirty-six millions, there are generally about 700,000 men 
out of work. There are about 800,000 paupers. Of every 
thousand persons who die in Merrie England over nine 
hundred die without leaving any property at all. About 
eight millions of people exist always on the borders of 
destitution. About twenty millions are poor. More than 
half the national income belongs to about ten thousand 
people. About thirty thousand people own fifty-five 
fifty-sixths of the land and capital of the kingdom, but of 
thirty-six millions of people only 1 \ millions get above 
$15 a week. The average income per head of the work¬ 
ing classes is about $75 a year, or less than 25 cents a day. 
There are millions of our people working under conditions 
and living in homes that are simply disgraceful. The 
sum of crime, vice, drunkenness, gambling, prostitution, 
idleness, ignorance, want, disease, and death is appalling. 

These are facts. They are facts which stare us in the 
face in every town, and at all hours of the day and night. 
They are facts so well known thatl need not rake the Blue 
Books for statistics to confirm them. I wish to use as 
few figures as possible. I also wish to avoid angry words. 
Therefore, Mr. Smith, I simply point out these evils and 
ask you as a practical and honest man whether you don’t 
think they ought to be remedied. 

To what are the above evils due ? They are due to the 
unequal distribution of wealth, and to the absence of 
justice and order from our society. 


52 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Consider, first, the distribution of the annual earnings. 
The following figures are given on the authority of Giffen, 
Levi, and Mulholland :— 

Gross national earnings. $6,750,000,000 

Amount paid in rent. 1,220,000,000 

Amount paid in interest. 1,250,000,000 

Salaries of middle-classes and profits of employers &c.. 1,800,000,000 

Wages of the working classes. 2,590,000,000 

That is to say, the workers earn 6,750 millions. Of 
that the Rich take, in rent and interest, 2,550 millions, 
and the Rich and Middle-classes, in profits and salaries, 
take another 300 millions, or a total of 4,250 millions, 
leaving for the working classes little more than one-third 
(2,500 millions). 

Now for the proportions. As I said just now, there are 
less than 1J millions who pay income tax on incomes of 
$750 a year and upwards. Multiply 7^ millions by 3 and 
you get 21^- millions as the gross number of men, women, 
and children of the middle and upper classes. Four-and- 
a-half millions will be just one-eighth of our population. 
Thus we find that 4,560 millions go to one-eighth of the 
population, and 2,500 millions to the other seven-eighths 

Speaking in round numbers the averages per head are 
as follows:— 

Middle and upper classes, per year, $920. 

Working classes, per year, $80. 

The following diagram will give you an idea of the in¬ 
equality of this division:— 

Classes. Income. 

********* ****** 

****** 

***** 






MERE IE ENGLAND. 


53 


Masses. 

'7V 'TV 'Tv* 'Tv 'TV 'TV "TV '7V -TV 

********** 


Income. 

****** 

.y, w. .y. ,y. .y. 

tv Tv Tv Tv 'tv* 


********** 

AA. AA A/, V. V. A#. AT. AA A/, 

Tv "A* Tv ’7V 'TV '7V '/V '7V -TV ‘TV 

********** 

********** 

* * * 


But this is not the worst. Besides the fact that the 
upper and middle classes take nearly two-thirds of the 
wealth which the masses earn, there is the fact that those 
classes, and probably less than a tenth of those classes, 
actually own all the land and all the instruments by 
which wealth can be produced. 

Political orators and newspaper editors are very fond 
of talking to you about “ your country.” Now, Mr. 
Smith, it is a hard practical fact that you have not got any 
country. The British Islands do not belong to the British 
people; they belong to a few thousands—certainly not 
half a million—of rich men. 

These men not only own the land, they own, also, the 
rivers and lakes, the mines and minerals, the farms and 
orchards, the trees and thickets; the cattle and horses, 
and sheep and pigs, and poultry and game; the mills, 
factories, churches, houses, shops, railways, trains, ships, 
machinery, and, in fact, nearly everything except the 
bodies and souls of the workers, and, as I will try to show 
you, they have almost complete power over these. 

Yes, not only do the rich own the land, and all the 
buildings and machinery, but also, and because they own 
those things, they have reduced the workers to a condi¬ 
tion of dependence. 

For you know very well that it is true of nearly all of 
our working men that they cannot work when they choose 


54 


MERRLE ENGLAND. 


to work, but m-ust first find a rich man—a capitalist— 
who is willing to employ them. 

This is because the capitalists own the land and the 
tools. What can the ploughman do without the land and 
the plough; or the collier without the pit and the 
machinery; or the weaver without the loom and fac¬ 
tory ? 

You know that in these days of machinery there are 
hardly any men who own the tools of their own trade. 
And if they did they would be helpless; for they must 
sell their work in a market where the capitalist competes 
with them, and where he will undersell them, even if 
he loses by the sale, and so make it impossible for them 
to live. 

Rent, interest, private ownership, machinery and com¬ 
petition are all instruments in the hands of the capitalist, 
and with those instruments he compels the worker to 
give up nearly all his earnings in return for permission 
to work. 

You are an agricultural laborer. I own a piece of land. 
You come to me and beg for “work.” I “engage” you 
at $5 a week, and all you produce is mine. You are a 
slave, for if you quit my employ you must starve; and 
although I have'no whip or chain, T have that which 
serves as well to compel you to w r ork hard, that is to say, 
I have power to turn you off the land. So if you are a 
cotton operative, and I own a cotton mill. You must 
come to me and ask for work. If I refuse it you must 
starve. If I offer it you must take it at my price. Oh, 
yes, you can form a trade union, and strike, refusing to 
accept my price. In that case I may give you rather 
more than I offered, because it will pay me better to let 
you have half the money you earn and be content myself 
>yith the other half than to let you remain idle and so 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


55 


make nothing by you at all. But you know I can always 
beat you, for I have enough to live upon in idleness, and 
you have nothing. 

Well, it is true that the land and all the mines, mills, 
houses, and machinery—that is to say, the “ Land ” and 
“ Capital ”—of this country are owned by a few rich 
people. And it is urged in defence of this private owner¬ 
ship of the “ means of livelihood ” that, in the first place, 
the rich have a “ right” to their possessions ; and in the 
second place that the rich use these possessions to the 
general advantage. 

Both these statements are untrue. 

First, as to the rich man’s “ right ” to his wealth. I 
suppose that you, as a sensible and honest man will admit 
this principle: viz., that a man has a “ right ” to that 
which he has produced by the unaided exercise of his 
own faculties; but that he has not a right to that which 
is not produced by his own unaided faculties; nor to the 
whole of that which has been produced by his faculties 
aided by the faculties of another man. 

If you admit the above principle, then I think I can 
prove to you that no man has a right to the private 
ownership of a single square foot of land; and that no 
man could of his own efforts produce more private prop¬ 
erty than is commonly possessed by a monkey or a bear. 

We will begin with the land; and you will find that 
the original title to all the land possessed by private 
owners is the title conquest or theft. 

There are four chief ways in which land may become 
private property. It may be confiscated by force ; it may 
be filched by fraud; it may be received as a gift; or it 
may be bought with money. 

Of the land held by our rich peers the greater part has 
been plundered from the church, stolen from the common- 


56 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


lands, or received in gifts from the Crown. If you will 
buy a little book called “ Our Old Nobility,” you will 
begin to have an idea of the ways in which our “ noble” 
families got possession of their estates. From that book 
I quote the following lines :— 

The Fitzroys are certainly descended from one of the vilest of women : 
Barbara Palmer, wife of Lord Castlemaine, and mistress of Charles 
II. . . . One of Charles’ Ministers was Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, 
whose only daughter was married at the mature age of twelve to young 
Fitzroy, the son of Barbara Palmer and Charles II. Ample provision was 
made for the young couple. In 1673 Charles granted to the Earl of Arling¬ 
ton for life, and to Fitzroy and his wife afterwards, a very extensive tract 
of Crown land, viz., the lordship and manor of Grafton, manor of Hart¬ 
well, and lands in Hartwell, Roade, and Hanslope, manors of Alderton, 
Blissworth, Stoke Bruerne, Green’s Norton, Pottersbury, Ashton, Paulers- 
bury, part of Charcomb Priory, lands in Grimscott, Houghton Parva, 
Northampton, Hardingston, and Shuttlehanger, parcel of Sewardsley 
Priory, the office and fee of the honor of Grafton, and the forests of Salcey 
and Whittlebury (reserving the timber to the Crown). This extraordinary 
grant will account for the large estates of the Fitzroys in Northampton¬ 
shire and Bucks. The Fitzroys inherit their Suffolk estates from the Earl 
of Arlington. This patriotic statesman, who formed one of the notorious 
Cabal Ministry, not content with taking bribes from the King of France, 
and with the lucrative posts of Secretary of State, Keeper of the Privy 
Purse, and Postmaster-General, managed to secure for himself a number 
of valuable grants, as is shown by the State Papers in the Record Office, 
among which were a moiety of the estates of a former Earl of Lenox, and 
several manors in the county of Wicklow. He also obtained a lease of 
Marylebone Park on advantageous terms, and another lease of three- 
fourths of Great St. John’s Wood at an annual rental of £21. 6s. 2d. No 
wonder that he was able to purchase Euston Hall and the surrounding 
lands. One of his Suffolk lordships was formerly part of the possessions 
of St. Edmund’s Abbey, though whether acquired by grant or purchase is 
not clear. Charles II. was not content with giving away Crown lands in 
the wholesale manner above described ; the children of his harlots were 
further provided for at the public expense. The Duke of Grafton, for 
instance, had an hereditary pension of £9,000 a year granted from the 
Excise, and £4,700 a year from the Post Office, which continued to be 
paid till a comparatively recent date. The former pension was redeemed 
in 1858 by a payment of £193,777, and the latter in 1856 by a payment of 
£91,181. There was also a very lucrative sinecure in the family, which 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 57 

the Duke of Grafton surrendered in 1795 for an annuity of £870 a year— 
an arrangement ratified by the Act 46 Geo. III., Cap. 89. 

I want you to read that book, and also Henry George’s 
“ Progress and Poverty ” and “ Social Problems.” 

But leaving the men who have stolen the land, or got 
it by force, or fraud, let us consider the title of those who 
have bought the land. 

Many people have bought land, and paid for it. Have 
they a right to it ? 

No. They have no right to that land, and for these two 
reasons. 

1. They bought it of some one who had no right 
to sell it. 

2. They paid for it with money which they 
themselves had never earned. 

Land, you will observe, is the gift of Nature. It is not 
made by man. Now, if a man has a right to nothing but 
that which he has himself made, no man can have a right 
to the land, for no man made it. 

It would be iust as reasonable for a few families to 
claim possession of the sea and the air, and charge their 
fellow creatures rent for breathing or bathing, as it is for 
those few families to grab the land and call it theirs. As 
a matter of fact we are charged for breathing, for without 
a sufficient space of land to breathe on we cannot get 
good air to breathe. 

If a man claimed the sea, or the air, or the light as his, 
you would laugh at his presumption. Now, I ask you to 
point out to me any reason for private ownership of land 
which will not act as well as a reason for private owner¬ 
ship of sea and air. 

So we may agree that no man can have any right to the 
land. And if a man can have no right to the land, how 
can he have a right to sell the land ? And if I buy a piece 


58 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


of land from one who has no right to sell it, how can I 
call that land mine ? 

Take a case. William the Conqueror stole an estate 
from Harold (to whom it did not belong) and gave it to a 
Norman Baron. During the Wars of the Roses said Baron 
lost it to another Baron, or to the Crown. Later on the 
estate is confiscated by Charles II. and given to a bastard 
son of his. The descendants of that bastard son take to 
gambling and lose the estate to the Jews. The Jews sell 
it to a wealthy cotton-lord. 

But the land is stolen property, and the cotton-lord is 
a receiver of stolen property. 

Suppose a footpad knocked down a traveller and stole 
his watch. Gave the watch to his sweetheart, who sold 
it to a Jew, who sold it again to a sailor, and suppose the 
traveller came forward and claimed his watch. Would 
the law let the sailor keep it ? No. But if the footpad 
had been made a peer for stealing it that would have made 
a difference. 

You may say, of course, that the law of the land has 
confirmed the old nobility in the possession of their stolen 
property. That is quite true. But it is equally true that 
the law was made by the landowners themselves. In 
the eighteenth century the big landowners robbed the 
small landowners in a shameful and wholesale way. 
Within a space of about eighty years no less than 7,000,000 
acres were “ enclosed.” 

And when we suggest that the land of England should 
be restored to the English people from whom it was 
stolen, these land-robbers have the impudence to raise the 
cry of “ plunder.” 

Here, for instance, is an extract from an evening paper, 
cut out by me some years ago:— 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


59 


The impudent agitators who suggest the confiscation of the land, are 
dumb as to the rights and services of the landowner. They ignore the 
facts that the land is his, and that if he administers the estate he chiefly 
creates its value. 

The land is not “ his.” Man has a right only to what 
his labor makes. No man “ makes ” the land. 

The nobleman does not —in most cases—administer his 
estate. The estate is managed by farmers, who pay the 
nobleman a heavy rent for being allowed to do his work. 

Therefore the landlord does not “ create the value ” of 
the estate. The value of an estate consists in the industry 
of those who work upon it. To say that Lord Blankdash 
has farm lands or town property worth 1250,000 a year 
means that he has the legal power to take that money 
from the factory hands and farm-workers for the use of 
that which is as much theirs as his. 

I suppose you are aware that no “ value ” can be got 
out of an estate without labor. If you doubt this, take a 
nine-acre field, fence it in, and wait until -it grows crops. 
You know it will never grow crops, unless some one 
ploughs it and sows it. 

No: even if you have land and capital you cannot raise 
a single ear of corn without labor. Take your nine-acre 
field. Put in a steam plough, a sack of seed, a harrow, 
and a bank-book, and wait for crops. You will not get a 
stalk of corn. A poor laborer with a broken shovel and 
a piece of thorn bush will raise more wheat in his little 
patch of back garden than all the capital of England could 
get out of all the acres of Europe without labor. 

But read the following report of a land company, taken 
from the Pall Mall Gazette in 1891 :— 

Swaziland Gold Exploeation and Land Company. 

The annual general meeting of this company was held this afternoon a 
Winchester House. Mr. E. A. Pontifex, the chairman, presided, and 


60 


ME RE IE ENGLAND. 


moved the adoption of the report, He said that since the last meeting 
practically nothing had been done. They had been waiting for more 
'prosperous times. They were an exploring and land, not a mining company, 
with a view to inducing others to form subsidiary companies for working 
the property. At the present moment the formation of companies was 
practically a dead letter; and it would be useless to point out to promoters 
where operations could be carried on, as they would be unable to raise the 
necessary funds to carry on the works. They had reduced the expenses to 
the lowest possible limit, the directors having foregone their fees, and the 
total amount being only £400 a year. They were awaiting better times , 
and the advent of railways, before endeavoring to work the riches they 
believed were contained in the 156 square miles of territory which they 
possessed. Since their last meeting, the High Court of Swaziland, sitting 
at Kremersdorp, had confirmed the concession originally made by the late 
King Umbandine, and it was held to by the King’s successors and the 
Boer Republic and the English Government, which now prevails in Swazi¬ 
land. Nor was it likely that any further call would be made until the 
arrival of more enterprising times. 

The italics are mine. The company owns 156 square 
miles of land; and it does not pay them a cent! Why ? 
Because there is no labor on it. The company are wait¬ 
ing for railways. Why ? Because railways will carry 
people out there. Mines, farms, towns, will come into 
existence. The pick and the plough will go to work, and 
then —then the Swaziland square miles will be valuable. 
In other words, the men who make the wealth in Swazi¬ 
land will have to pay a lot of it to the English company 
as rent for the land the company have “ acquired.” 

The case above given is clear enough for the capacity 
of a child. There is the whole problem made plain. 
Labor and capital: Labor and land. One hundred and 
fifty-six square miles of land, and not a shilling return. 
Not so much as comes back from the land on which is 
built an Ancoats slum cottage. But a man lives in the 
cottage; and he works, and a part of his earnings goes 
unto the “owner” of the land. Do you see it novi , Mr. 
Smith ? 


ME TUI IE ENGLAND. 


61 


Have you ever considered the question of house rent ? 
Suppose you own a cottage in a country village, and I 
own a cottage of the same size in a busy town, close to a big 
railway and a number of factories. You know that I 
shall get more rent for my house than you will get for 
yours. Why ? 

Because my house stands on more desirable land. The 
railway company would buy it. And then it is near to 
places of work, and workmen will pay more for it, especially 
as houses are scarce. 

But did I make the railway ? Did I build the factories ? 
Did I do anything to make the wealth of the town, or the 
“ value ” of the land. Not I. The workers did that, and 
so I am paid for what they did. That is to say, I am 
allowed, by raising my rent, to put a tax upon their 
industry. 

The poor wretches in the East End of London pay from 
3s. to 6s. a week for one small room in a weather-worn 
and dirty house, in a narrow and unhealthy street; and 
rents in Manchester are high. This is owing to the value 
of the land. That is to say, the people are forced by 
stress of circumstances not only to live in the rotten nests 
of these pestilential rookeries, but have no option but to 
give the extortionate prices demanded by landlords whose 
bowels of compassion are dried up, and whose souls are 
shrunken by the fires of avarice. 

Land is “ valuable ”—that is, tenants will submit to be 
cheated—in all centres of industry. The skill, the energy, 
and the orderliness of the workers create an “ industrial 
centre.” Speculators buy land near that centre, and as 
business and work draw people thereto in search of a 
living, the “speculator” raises his prices and grows rich, 
and his land and houses are “ valuable.” This is accord¬ 
ing to the law. It constitutes a dishonest and an unreason- 


62 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


able tax on labor, but it is lawful. There is in it neither 
principle nor humanity—but it is the law; and the 
difficulty of improving the dwellings of the people lies in 
the fact that you cannot alter this law without damaging 
the sacred rights of property. 

Do you ever think about these things ? Do you know 
the difference between the land law and the patent laws 
and copyright? 

A nobleman owns an estate. He draws $150,000 in 
rent from it annually, lie and his family before him 
have drawn that rent for five or six centuries, and the 
land is still his. 

But if John Smith of Oldham invents a new loom and 
patents it, his patent right expires in fourteen years. For 
fourteen years he may reap the fruits of his cleverness. 
At the end of that time any one may work his patent 
without charge. It has become public property. This is 
the law. 

Or John Smith of Oldham writes a book. The book is 
copyright for forty years, or for the life of the author and 
seven years after. Whilst it is copyright no one can 
print the book without John’s leave and so John may 
make money by his cleverness. But at the end of that 
time the copyright lapses and the book becomes public 
property. Any one may print it then. 

Now you see the difference between land law and patent 
law. The landlord’s patent never runs out. The land 
never becomes public property. The rent is perpetual. 
And yet the landlord did not make the land, whereas 
John Smith did invent the loom. 

Mr. Smith, if you are a practical, hard-headed man, I 
think I may leave you to study the land question for 
yourself. 


MEIlIlIE ENGLAND. 


63 


CHAPTER VII. 

RENT AND INTEREST. 

The Lord will enter into judgmont with the elders of His people. It is 
ye that have eaten up the vineyard : the spoil of the poor is in your 
houses ; what mean ye that ye crush My people, and grind the faces of 
the poor ? saith the Lord, the Lord of Hosts.— Isaiah. 

Morality and political economy unite in repelling the individual who 
consumes without producing.— De Balzac,. 

The guilty Thieves of Europe, the real sources of all deadly war in it, 
are the Capitalists—that is to say people who live by percentages or the 

labor of others ; instead of by fair wages for their own.All 

social evils and religious errors arise out of the pillage of the laborer by 
the idler ; the idler leaving him only enough to live on (and even that 
miserably), and taking all the rest of the produce of his work to spend 
in his own luxury, or in the toys with which he beguiles his idleness.— 
Buskin. 

The requisites of production are two : Labor, and appropriate natural 
objects.— J. S. Mill. 

The produce of labor constitutes natural recompense, or wages of 
labor. —Adam Smith. 

We have now to consider a very important question, 
viz., have the rich any right to their riches ? 

I have already laid it down as my guiding principle 
that a man has a right to all the wealtli that he creates 
by the exercise of his own unaided faculties; and to no 
more. 

If you look into my pamphlet, “ The Pope’s Socialism,” 
page 4, you will find the following paragraph:— 

No man has any right to he rich. No man ever yet became rich by fair 
means. No man ever became rich by his own industry. 

That statement, “ no man ever became rich by his own 



G4 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


industry,” has puzzled many of my readers, and I shall 
explain it. 

I shall explain it because, if no man can become rich by 
his own industry, then no man has a right to be rich at 
all. 

How do men grow rich ? In these days the three chief 
sources of wealth are : 

1. Rent. 

2. Interest. 

3. Profits. 

First, Rent. Who earns it? We will take two ex¬ 
amples : Ground Rent, and Property Rent. 

The Duke of Plaza Toro owns an estate. The rent roll 
is $150,000 a year. Where does the money come from ? 

The estate is let out to farmers, at so much per acre. 
These farmers pay the duke his $150,000 a year. Where 
do the farmers get it from ? 

The farmers sell their crops, and out of the purchase 
money pay the rent. How are the crops raised ? 

The crops are raised by the agricultural laborers, under 
the direction of the farmers. 

That is to say, that the rent is earned by labor—by 
the labor of the farmer and his men. The duke does 
nothing. The duke did not make the land, nor does he 
raise the crops. He has therefore no right to take the 
rent at all. 

The man who gets rich on ground rent gets rich on the 
labor of others. 

Mr. Bounderby owns a row of houses. The rental of 
the street amounts to $2,000 a year. Where does the 
money come from ? 

The rent is paid by the tenants of the houses. It is 
paid with money they have earned by their labor, or with 
money which they have obtained from other men who 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


65 


earned it by their labor, and it is paid to Mr. Bounderby 
for the use of his houses. 

How did Mr. Bounderby get his houses? He either 
bought them with money which he did not earn by his 
own industry, or he paid for the material and the building 
with money which he did not earn by his own indus¬ 
try. 

Two things are quite certain. First, that Mr. Bound¬ 
erby did not build the houses with his own hands, nor 
make the bricks and timbers of which they are built; 
that work was done by other men. And second, that the 
money with which those men were paid was never earned 
by Mr. Bounderby’s own industry. 

Mr. Bounderby lias therefore no right to own those 
houses or to charge rent for them. 

The man who grows rich upon house rents grows rich 
upon the labor of others. 

But you will very properly ask, Mr. Smith, how I prove 
that the money paid by Mr. Bounderby for his houses 
was not earned by his own industry. 

This brings us to the second and third means by which 
men get wealth: Interest and profits. 

What is interest ? It is money paid for the use of 
money. If you lent me $500 at 5 percent, interest, that 
would mean that I must pay you five pounds a year for 
the loan of the money as long as I kept it, and that such 
payment would not reduce the amount of the loan. So 
that if I kept your $500 for twenty years and paid you 
$25 year interest, I should at the end of that time still 
owe you $500. That is to say you would receive $1,000 
from me, although you only lent me $500. 

Where do I get the interest from ? I have to work for 
it. But you get it from me. You don’t work for it. 
You—possibly—worked for the principal, that is, for the 
5 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


66 

first hundred pounds; but you do not work for the in¬ 
terest, the second hundred pounds. 

Suppose I have $5,000 I put it in a bank and draw 3 per 
cent., $150 a year, interest for it. At the end of twenty 
years I shall have drawn out $3,000, and yet there will be 
$5,000 to my credit. How does my money breed money ? 
How do I get $3,000 for $5,000 ? How can the banker 
afford to pay me more than I put into the bank ? 

If instead of putting my $5,000 into a bank I locked it 
up in a safe, and drew out $150 a year for twenty years, 
would there be $5,000 at the end of that time ? There 
would not. There would only be $2000. Money does not 
breed money. Interest has to be worked for. Who earns 

Suppose a rich Jew has lent million to the Govern¬ 
ment at 3 per cent. He draws every year $150,000 in 
interest. Who pays it? It is raised by taxation. Who 
pays the taxes ? They are all paid either by the workers 
or by those who get their money from the workers. And 
the Jew gets his interest forever. That is to say that 
after he has drawn back all his million in interest the 
Government goes on paying him out of your earnings, my 
hard-headed friend, $150,000 a year as long as any one is 
left to claim it. Probably the million was wasted in some 
foolish work, or wicked war ; but because a Minister in 
1812 was a knave or a fool, British industry is taxed to the 
tune of $150,000 a year, world without end, amen. 

And the worst of it is that the money the Jew lent was 
not earned by him, but by the ancestors of the very people 
who are now paying his descendants interest for the loan 
of it. 

Nay : Worse even than this. It is a fact that a great 
deal of the so-called “ capital ” for which interest is paid 
does not exist at all. 


ME HR IE ENGLAND. 


67 


The Duke of Plaza Toro is a wealthy peer. He has an 
income, a rent-roll of $150,000 a year. The Earl of Chow 
Bent has $200,000 a year, the Marquis of Steyne has 
$250,000 a year. These noblemen, together with a rich 
Jew, a couple of rich cotton-lords, and acoalowner, decide 
to form a company and construct a canal. 

They engage some engineers and some navvies. To pay 
these men their wages and to provide tools and other 
plant, they need “ capital.” 

They get an estimate of the cost. Say it is half a 
million. The capital of the company is half a million. 
But that is needed to complete the work. It can be 
started with much less. They therefore issue 50,000 
shares at $50, each; $10 payable on allotment, and the 
rest at stated times. 

The company consists of ten men. Each takes an 
equal number of shares, each pays down an equal sum, 
say $50,000, making a total of $500,000. With this amount 
they can go on until the second call is made. 

Now look at the position of the Duke. He has paid in 
his $50,000, and at the end of a year he will have another 
£150,000 ready, in the shape of rent. The others are in 
similar positions. The Jew waits for his interest , the coal- 
owner and the cotton-lords for their profits. And all 
these sums, the rent, the interest, and the profits, are 
earned by the workers, 

So the canal is made. Who makes it ? Not the rich 
share-owners. Oh, no. The canal is made by the engi¬ 
neers and the navvies. And who finds the money ? Not 
the rich shareholders. Oh, no. The money is earned in 
rent, or interest, or profits, by the agricultural laborers, 
the colliers, and the cotton operatives. 

But when the navvies and engineers have made the 


68 


MERIIIE ENGLAND. 


canal, and when the laborers, miners, and spinners have 
paid for it, who owns it ? 

Does it belong to the men who made it? Not at all. 
Does it belong to the men who earned the money to pay 
for it ? Not at all. 

It belongs to the rich shareholders, and these men will 
get other men to work it, and will keep the profits of its 
working. 

That is to say, all the goods which are carried on that 
canal must pay tollage. This tollage, after the costs of 
repairing and working the canal are defrayed, will be 
profit, and will be divided amongst the shareholders in 
the form of dividends. Who will pay the tollage? 

The tollage will be paid by the people who carry the 
goods, and they in turn will charge it to the people who 
buy the goods, and they in turn will charge it to the peo¬ 
ple who use the goods. And the people who use the 
goods will be either workers, who pay the toll out of their 
own earnings, or rich people, who pay the toll out of the 
earnings of other workers. 

And now let us sum up. 

The Duke of Plaza Toro lends $ 50,000, which he has got 
(out of his farm laborers) and $275,000 which he has not 

t 

got, but which he will get as soon as his farm laborers 
have earned it. With this money—the money earned and 
to be earned by the farm laborers—the Duke pays wages 
to the engineers and navvies who make the canal. 

The canal being made, the Duke takes tollage, wdiich 
is paid by the workers, much of it, perhaps, by the farm 
laborers, navvies, engineers, spinners, and colliers, who 
found the money for the canal or did the work of making 
it. 

That is to say, the workers pay the Duke interest for 
the loan of their own money. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


69 


You will begin now to see what is meant by such words 
as Rent, Interest, Capital, and Credit. For your further 
enlightenment, and to give you an idea how poor these 
. rich men really are, and how very much interest is paid 
for money which does not exist, let me offer you two 
facts. 

The first fact is that whereas the amount annually paid 
in wages, profits, interest, and rent is estimated at 86,000,- 
000,000, there is at no time as much as 8500,000,000 of 
money in the country. 

The second fact I will give you in the words of John 
Stuart Mill:— 

When men talk of the ancient wealth of a country, of riches inherited 
from ancestors, and similar expressions, the idea suggested is that the 
riches so transmitted were produced long ago, at the time when they are 
said to have been first acquired, and that no portion of the capital of a 
country was produced this year, except so much as may have been this 
year added to the total amount. The fact is far otherwise. 

The greater part, in value, of the wealth now existing in England has 
been produced by human hands within the last twelve months. A 
very small proportion indeed of that large aggregate was in exist¬ 
ence ten years ago; of the present productive capital of the country 
scarcely any part, except farm-houses and factories, and a few ships and 
machines ; and even these would not in most cases have survived so long 
if fresh labor had not been employed within that period in putting them 
into repair. 

The land subsists, and the land is almost the only thing that subsists. 
Everything which is produced perishes, and most things very quickly. 

And again:— 

Capital is kept in existence from age to age, not by preservation, but by 
perpetual reproduction. 

Does that surprise you ? Yearly all the boasted “ capi¬ 
tal,” or wealth of the rich is produced annually. 

And by whom is it produced? By the rich? Yot at 
all. It is produced by those who labor, for all wealth 


70 


MEUBIE ENGLAND. 


must be produced by labor. By no other means can it be 
produced. 

You hear a man described as a millionaire. Do you 
suppose that he has a million or a hundred million pounds 
in his safe? Do you imagine with regard to a Jay Gould 
or a Duke of Westminster that every year a million golden 
coins rain down on him from heaven ? 

Your millionaire has hardly anything. Very little 
money that is certain. But he has bonds and securities 
and other written contrivances of the usurer and the devil, 
whereby he is legally entitled to appropriate year by year 
some millions of the wealth that is created by the labor 
of the poor. 

Your Duke of Plaza Toro is said to be worth $2,500,000 
a year. How is he worth it ? lie gets it in rent, in royal¬ 
ties, in dividends, in interest; and every penny of it is 
taken from the wealth produced by labor. 

Your Duke has $150,000 a year of rent-roll, has he ? But 
he has not a shilling of rent until poor Hodge has raised 
the crops and farmer Giles has sold them. Take the men, 
the laborers—poor despised drudges—off his Grace’s 
estates, and his Grace is a pauper. 

I advise you to get a pamphlet called “ Society Classi¬ 
fied : In reply to the question, ‘ How far is the saying true 
that every one lives either by working or begging, or by 
stealing?’ ” It is well worth your attention. The author 
is E. D. Girdlestone. 


MEREIE ENGLAND. 


71 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SELF-MADE MAN. 

The difference of natural talent in different men is, in reality, much less 
than Ave are aware of ; and the very different genius which appears to 
distinguish men of different professions, when grown up to maturity, is uot, 
upon many occasions, so much the cause as the effect of the division of 
labor. The difference between the most dissimilar characters—between a 
philosopher and a common street porter, for example—seems to arise not 
so much from nature, as from habit, custom, and education. When they 
came into the world, and for the first six or eight years of their existence, 
they were perhaps very much alike, and neither their parents nor playfel¬ 
lows could perceive any remarkable difference. About that age, or soon 
after, they came to be employed in very different occupations. The differ¬ 
ence of talents comes then to be taken notice of, and widens by degrees, 
till at last the vanity of the philosopher is willing to acknowledge scarcely 
any resemblance .—Adam Smith. 

Lycurgus fixed but a small value on a considerable quantity of his iron 
money, but on the contrary the worth of speech was to consist in a few 
plain words pregnant with a good deal of sense, and he contrived that by 
long silence they might learn to be sententious and acute in their replies. 
Upon the whole he taught his citizens to think nothing more disagreeable 
than to live for or by themselves. Like bees the people acted with one 
impulse for the public good, and always assembled about their prince. 
They were possessed with a thirst of honor, an enthusiasm bordering upon 
insanity, and had not a wish but for their country.— Plutarch. 


The next thing we have to discover is, What is profit? 
Profit is the excess price received for an article over the 
price paid for it. 

If a man sells a thing for more money than he buys it 
for the balance is profit. 

You will see, then, that men may make profit either 
upon their own work or upon the work of others. 


72 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


As a rule profit is not made by the produce of an article, 
but by some other person commonly called “ the middle¬ 
man ” because he goes between the producer and the con¬ 
sumer ; that is to say he, the middleman, buys the article 
from the maker, and sells it to the user, at a profit. 

In some cases, and to some extent, this profit is fair. 
For example, a costermonger buys fish in the market, 
carries it into the city and sells it at a profit. That profit 
is his wage, and pays him for his work as a distributor or 
carrier of goods from the producer to the user. 

But when the middleman becomes a capitalist; when he 
buys fish on the beach by the ton and sells it at a profit 
to the shopkeeper and the coster, making for himself a 
couple of thousand a year, while the fisherman and the 
coster can hardly keep body and soul together, that is not 
a fair profit at all. 

Why ? Just look at it in this light. Here are four 
persons concerned in the fishery trade. 

1. The fisherman, or getter. 

2. The middleman, or dealer. 

3. The coster, or carrier. 

4. The consumer, or user. 

Now, can you see any reason why of these four people 
the middleman, who does nothing but sign checks, should 
fare so much better than any of the others ? 

We have three persons engaged in getting the fish from 
the sea to our doors. Is it fair that he who does the least 
work should have the most money ? Is the work done by, 
or rather done/or, the middleman so much more valuable 
to the public than the work of the fisherman and the 
coster ? 

My dear John, the middleman’s work, so far from being 
the most valuable of the three, is actually worse than 
useless. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


73 


The middleman in fact does nothing but keep up the 
price of fish and keep down the rate of wages by his ex¬ 
orbitant profits. 

Put the case to yourself thus. Suppose you were con¬ 
tractor, or caterer, for the supply of food to an entire 
town. Would you pay a man 110,000 a year for simply 
ordering other men to send telegrams to local agents to 
buy fish on the beach? I don’t think you would. Being 
a hard-headed person, you would pay a clerk the current 
rate of wages to do all that, and so would save at least 
$9,000 a year. You would see then, in a moment, that 
the middleman was a mere snatcher of profits, taking 
from the producer with one hand and from the consumer 
with the other. 

All employers of labor, all rich men, except the money¬ 
lenders and the landlords, are middlemen. 

They are all useless incumbrances, getting rich upon 
the labor of others. 

There are three chief kinds of middlemen:— 

1. The idle capitalist, who pays men to work for 
him, and pays managers to direct them, but never 
works himself. 

2. The busy capitalist who pays men to work 
for him, and himself directs and manages the sale 
of what they make. 

3. The capitalistic worker, or inventor, who has 
invented some new process or machine, and who 
employs other men to make or work the patent. 

The first of these men is worse than useless. The second 
is, or might be, useful, but is almost always very much 
overpaid. The third is sometimes an evil, sometimes a 
good, ought always to be valuable to any nation, and is 
the only kind of capitalist with any pretence of a right to 
his riches. His case we must consider very carefully. 


74 


MER1UE ENGLAND. 


When I said in “ The Pope’s Socialism ” that no man 
ever became rich by his own industry, the inventor was 
instanced against me by some of my readers. 

They could not see that a man who made a fortune out 
of an invention did not grow rich by his own industry. 

Yet the fact is very clear. 

We will suppose that you, John Smith, invent a new 
kind of loom, which will do twice as much work as any 
other kind of loom now known. 

You patent that loom, and for twenty-one years exact a 
royalty upon every such loom that is made. Thus you 
grow rich. 

Do you grow rich by your own industry ? By your 
own unaided industry ? 

Is all the machine your own invention ? Does no other 
man’s hand help you in the getting of your riches ? 

If you consider you will find that you owe your in¬ 
vention to a legion of dead and nameless men; and 
your wealth to a legion of poor workers of your own 
time. 

First. Your loom contains wheels, and shafts, and 
pinions, and is worked by steam. Did you invent the 
wheel? Did you discover steam? No. They were there 
ready to your hand, invented, like the hammer and the 
file you used, and the principles of mechanics by which 
you worked, by men long dead; by men without whose 
labors your wonderful invention had never been. 

But, again, of what is your loom made ? Of iron, of 
copper, of steel; of timber and many other materials. 
But you are not a miner, nor a puddler, nor a joiner, nor 
a smith or moulder. 

So that to invent your machine you borrow from the 
dead; and to make it you must get the help of the 
living. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


75 


And when it is made. Will it fetch a fortune ? Not at 
all. To make a fortune out of your machine you must 
make others, or get them made. 

You cannot make them. If you did you would not grow 
rich, for it would take you years and years to make but a 
few. 

Therefore you get other men to make them, other men 
to sell them, other men to work them, and get others to 
buy the cloth they weave, and you take the profit. 

Do you call that getting rich by your own unaided 
industry ? I don’t. I call it taking a selfish advantage 
of your own good fortune and the necessity of your fellow 
creatures. 

You will understand that I do not blame you. In a 
time of competition it behooves every man to look after 
himself. If I invented a machine I should take the royalty 
on the patent, and use it as best I might. 

But it would be far better for me, and for the world, if 
I was not compelled to take it; but might give my talents 
freely to mankind without danger of being branded as a 
pauper, or left to die in a ditch as a reward. 

You will often hear it said that Socialists are dishonest 
men, who wish to take the wealth of others and enjoy it 
themselves. John, that is a lie. It is a wilful, wicked 
lie, deliberately uttered by robbers who wish to hold fast 
to the spoil they have taken from the poor. 

Socialism is terribly just, implacably honest. It is so 
honest that I doubt whether you can so much as look at 
the light of its honesty without blinking; although you are 
a fairly honest man, John Smith, as times go. But let 
me give you an idea of what I consider the very root prin¬ 
ciple of all Socialism, and of all Democracy. 

This is the principle that there is no such thing as per¬ 
sonal independence in human affairs. Man is a unit of 


76 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


society, and owes not only all that he possesses, but all 
that he is, to other men. 

Yes. Just as no man can have a right to the land, be¬ 
cause no man makes the land, so no man has a right to 
his self, because he did not make that self. 

Men are made what they are by two forces, heredity 
and environment. That is to say, by “ breed ” and the 
conditions of life. 

Take a new-born babe—a Shakespeare or a Stevenson 
—and put it down upon an uninhabited island and it will 
perish of hunger. 

Set a savage to suckle it, and it will grow up a savage. 

Your intellect and character are at birth what your 
forefathers made them. And the intellects and charac¬ 
ters of your forefathers were what their forefathers and 
their own surroundings made them. 

After birth, you become just what your circumstances 
and the people around you acting upon your peculiar 
character and intellect, may make you. 

Born amongst sots and thieves, and reared amongst 
them, you will almost certainly become a sot and a thief. 

Born and reared amongst Thugs you would have learned 
and grown to delight in murder. 

Whatsoever you are, you are what your forefathers, 
your circumstances, and your companions have made you. 
You did not make yourself; therefore you have no right 
to yourself. You were made by other men; therefore to 
those other men you are indebted for all you have and 
for all you are, and Socialism, with its awful justice, tells 
you that you must pay the debt. 

Allow me to illustrate this position by using myself as 
an example. I am a writer. I write a story, and I sell 
it to the public. Suppose I can, by the sale of many 
copies, secure a large sum of money. Am I justified in 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


77 


calling that money mine; in asserting, as so many men 
do assert, that I have earned the money by my own in¬ 
dustry and talent, and that therefore it belongs to me 
alone, by right? I don’t know what you think, John 
Smith, but I know that I have not done that work without 
help, and that in justice I must pay back to all men what 
they have lent me. 

What have they lent me ? They have lent me all that 
I have and all that I am. 

Who taught me to read, and to write ? Who suckled 
me, nursed me, clothed me, fed me, cured me of my fevers 
and other ailings ? 

Where did I get my ideas, my thoughts, my power, such 
as it is, of literary arrangement, form and style? 

I tell you frankly that I don’t know. What do I owe 
to Solomon, to Shakespeare, to Rabelais, to Carlyle, to 
Dickens; to a hundred other writers ? What do I owe 
to personal friends ; to schoolmasters, to the people I have 
rubbed shoulders and touched hands with all these years ? 
What do I owe to the workshop, to the army, to the peo¬ 
ple of the inns, the churches, the newspaper offices, the 
markets, and the slums ? I don’t know. I can only tell 
you that these people have made me what I am and have 
taught me all I know. 

Kay, could I even write a story after all my learning 
and being and suffering if I had not fellow creatures to 
write about ? Could I have written “ The Ramchunders ” 
if I had not served with soldiers, or “ My Sister,” if there 
had been no unfortunate, desperate women in our 
streets ? 

All I know, all that even a great writer knows of art or 
human nature has been learned from other men. Now I 
tell you, Practical John, that I am in the debt of my in¬ 
structors. Indeed you would see clearly enough that if 


78 


ME ERIE ENGLAND. 


Mr. Luke Fildes, the artist, engaged a man to sit as model 
for his “ Casuals ” he ought to pay that man his wages. 
And why should not Charles Dickens pay the models for 
his article on Tramps ? 

I owe a debt, then, to the living and the dead. You may 
say that I cannot pay the dead. But suppose the dead 
have left heirs! Likely enough they have left heirs. 
And Socialism, with its awful justice, tells me that the 
claims of those heirs are binding on me. 

Or there may be a will. Let us instance a case of this. 
To none, in my peculiar mental make up, am I more in¬ 
debted than to Jesus Christ. Well, he left a will. His 
will expressly bids me treat all men as brothers. And to 
the extent of my indebtedness to Christ am I bound to 
pay all men, his heirs. And even after all these debts 
are considered, I, the author of a poor little tale, am still 
in the same position as the inventor of the loom, for I can¬ 
not so much as get a copy printed without the aid of 
myriads of living workmen and of dead inventors. 

The pen I write with, the paper I write upon, the types, 
the press, the engine, the trains, the printer, the carrier, 
the shopmen, even the poor little bare-footed newsboy in 
the streets, are all necessary to my “greatness,” to my 
“ fame,” to my “ wealth.” And, after all, suppose no one 
would buy my book or read it! Who does buy it ? Who 
reads it ? Men and women I never saw. And who taught 
them to read ? For to those teachers also I owe something. 

Now, after all that, don’t you think I should be a most 
ungrateful and conceited prig if I had the impudence to 
hold up my face and say “ alone I did it ?” 

Here is a drawing. It represents a tree by a river. 
An apple has fallen from the tree and a monkey wishes 
to get the apple. 

But he cannot reach it. Another monkey tries, but 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


79 



cannot reach it. Then a third monkey comes and plucks 
the apple out of the water. 



Now, if that third monkey who reached the water over 
the bodies, and by the aid of the other two, were to claim 
the whole of the apple as his? would you call that fair ? 

It is just as unfair as it is for an author or an inventor 
to claim fame and fortune as the just reward of “ his own 
industry and talent.” Think of these things. They may 
not strike you as “practical,” but they are true. 







80 


MERE1E ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER IX. 

INDUSTRIAL COMPETITION. 

Competition gluts our markets, enables the rich to take advantage o! 
the necessities of the poor, makes each man snatch the bread out of his 
neighbor’s mouth, converts a nation of brethren into a mass of hostile, 
isolated, units, and finally involves capitalists and laborers in one com¬ 
mon ruin.— Greg. 

Now, my friend, pull yourself together, and remember 
that you are a practical, hard-headed man. I want to ask 
you some questions. 

Of a country where the idle men were rich, and the in¬ 
dustrious men poor, where men w~ere rewarded not for 
usefulness or goodness, but for successful selfishness, 
would you not say that its methods were unjust and that 
its Government was bad ? 

But of a country where the workers got more than the 
idlers, and where useful and good men were honored and 
rewarded, would you not say that it was a just and well- 
governed people ? 

You would. You would call that a false society where 
the good and useful suffered while the bad and the useless 
prospered. And you would call that a true society where 
every man enjoyed the fruits of his own labor and where 
the best men were at the head of affairs. Well, John, we 
have seen that in this country the greatest share of the 
wealth goes to those who do nothing to produce it; that 
industrious men are generally poor and rich men chiefly 
idle, the best and the most useful men are not the best 
paid nor the best rewarded, and that very often the great- 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


81 


est enemies of society reap the most benefit from society’s 
labor. 

In short, English society is not a just society, nor is 
England a well-governed nation. 

Now, what is the cause of this? How does it come to 
pass that Industry and Self-sacrifice are often poor, and 
that Idleness and Selfishness are often rich ? How comes 
it that laziness and greed reap honor and wealth, whilst 
poverty and contumely are the lot of diligence and zeal ? 

By what means do the rich retain their riches ; and by 
what means are the poor deprived of the wealth they 
create ? 

There are two causes of this injustice, John. The first 
is “ prerogative,” and the second is “competition.” 

The instrument by means of which our landed aristo¬ 
crats wrest their riches out of the hands of the workers is 
“ prerogative,” or privilege. ♦ 

Noblemen have had their estates given to them by the 
Crown—often for some base or cruel deed—and they keep 
them by means of laws made by a parliament of landlords. 
The English Parliament of to-day is a Parliament of privi¬ 
lege. It is not a democratic body. Abolish election fees, 
pay your members, pass acts for granting universal suf¬ 
frage, second ballot, and one man one vote, and you will 
have a Parliament elected upon democratic lines. At 
present there are not a dozen workmen amongst the six 
hundred and sixty members ; and then there is the House 
of Lords. 

So much for the great realm of Rent. Outside that we 
come to the still greater realm of commerce. Here there 
is not much prerogative, but there is a more deadly thing, 
there is competition. Competition is the instrument by 
which, in the commercial world, one man possesses him¬ 
self of the fruits of other men’s labor. 

6 


82 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


In the world of commerce there are two chief classes. 
The employers and the employed. Both these classes are 
engaged in competition. One employer competes against 
another, and one worker competes against another. The 
result being that the workers always suffer. 

Let us, then, examine these two kinds of competition ; 
and let us examine them as they affect:— 

1. The middleman, or employer. 

2. The producer, or worker. 

3. The consumer, or user. 

The rule of trade throughout the entire commercial 
world is that every seller shall obtain as much as he can 
get for the thing he has to sell, and that every buyer shall 
give as little as the seller will take for the thing he has 
to buy. 

Suppose I were cultivating a plot of land with a wooden 
spade and that with an iron spade I could do as much 
work in one hour as with a wooden spade I could do in 
two hours. The value of an iron spade to me would be 
the amount of labor saved until the spade was worn out. 

Now if there were only one iron spade to be bought, 
it would be worth my while to give for it almost the full 
amount of the advantage I should gain by its use. 

That is to say, if with the iron spade I could raise 20 
bushels of wheat in the year, and if with the wooden spade 
I could only raise 10 bushels of wheat in a year, and if 
the iron spade would last two years, then I could give 18 
bushels of wheat for an iron spade and still gain a bushel 
a year. So the iron spade would be worth 18 bushels of 
wheat to me. 

But now suppose instead of one iron spade there were 
a million of iron spades to sell. Would an iron spade be 
worth less to me ? No. It would still do double the work 
of the wooden spade, and I could only use one iron spade 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


83 


at once. To the buyer the abundance or scarcity of an 
article makes no difference in its value. A thing bought 
is worth what it will bring. 

On the other hand, what is the value of the spade to 
the man who makes it ? Its value is regulated by the 
time spent upon making it. If in the time it takes the 
man to make a spade he could have raised 20 bushels of 
wheat, then the spade must be sold for 20 bushels of 
wheat or he had better give up making spades and stick 
to his land. But if, in the time it would take him to 
raise 20 bushels of wheat he can make ten spades, then to 
him each spade is only worth two bushels of wheat. 
That is to say that to the seller the abundance of the 
thing he has to sell does make a difference in its value. 
A thing sold is worth what it has cost. 

Now let us see in what relations this buyer and 
seller of spades stand to each other as just men, and as 
traders. 

In justice, the day’s work of the farmer should be sold 
for the day’s work of the smith. So if a smith can make 
ten spades whilst a farmer is raising 20 bushels, then the 
just price of spades is two bushels each. 

As traders, it will pay me to give 18 bushels of wheat 
for one iron spade, since that spade will bring me 20 
bushels extra. 

Therefore, if there is only one smith, and if he will not 
sell a spade for less than 18 bushels, I shall certainly pay 
that price. 

Under these circumstances the smith will soon grow 
rich. 

But there is my side of the bargain as well as his. I 
may refuse to pay that price, knowing that he can only 
buy wheat from me. 

In that case he must lower the price of his spades, or 


84 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


dig his own wheat. In the end we should probably come 
to a fair arrangement. 

But suppose there are two men growing wheat, and 
only one making spades. Then the two farmers are in 
competition and the smith may raise the price of his 
spades. 

Or, if there are two smiths and only one farmer, then 
the price of spades will fall. Why ? Because it will pay 
the smith better to take three bushels for his spades than 
to grow wheat; therefore each smith will drop his price, 
so as to secure the order of the one farmer, down to the 
point where making spades ceases to pay better than 
growing wheat. 

But, now suppose that not only are there two smiths, 
and only one farmer, but that the one farmer owns the 
whole of the land. Then the smiths are obliged to sell 
spades or starve, and they will farther drop their prices 
down to the lowest point at which they can manage to exist. 

What does this mean ? It means that in the commer¬ 
cial world, where prices are ruled by competition, buyers 
do not pay for an article the price it is worth to them, 
but only the price which the seller is in a position to 
demand. 

Let us now consider the effect of competition amongst 
the workers. 

The worker has nothing to sell but his labor, and he 
must sell that to the middleman. Now, suppose a mid¬ 
dleman wants a potato patch dug up ; and suppose there 
are two men out of work. Will the middleman pay one 
of the men a just price, and charge the labor to the con¬ 
sumer of the potatoes? No. He will ask the men what 
they will do it for, and give the work to the man who 
will do it at the lower price. Nor is that the end of the 
mischief. Say one man gets the work at 75 cents a day. 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


85 


The other man is still unemployed. He, therefore, goes to 
the middleman and offers to do the work for 50 cents a 
day. Then the other man is thrown out of work and 
must go in for 85 cents a day—or starve. 

And so we see that competition amongst the workers 
reduces the workers’ wages, and either increases the 
middleman’s profits or lowers the price of potatoes. 

It would pay the workers better to combine. Then 
they might force the middleman to pay one of them 
$1.25 a day, which they could share. By this means- 
they would each have 62J cents a day, whereas competition 
between them would result in one of them working for 
37^ cents a day and the other getting nothing. This is the 
idea of the trade unionist. 

Consider next the effect of competition amongst the 
middlemen. There are two farmers growing potatoes. 
Each farmer wishes to get all the trade. Both know 
that the public will always buy the cheapest article. 
One farmer drops his price. This compels the other to 
drop his price, for if he did not he would lose all his trade. 
And when he drops his price the first drops his still 
lower, and so on, until neither farmer is making any 
profit. And then they compel their men to work for less 
wages. 

And so we see that competition amongst middlemen 
reduces profits, reduces wages, and cheapens potatoes. 

This, of course, applies to all trades, and not only to 
the potato trade. 

Now, your friends the capitalist members of Parliament, 
or Congress and their friends the stupid and dishonest 
men who form the newspaper Press, will tell you that 
wages are regulated by the law of supply and demand, 
and that it is to the interest of the worker that the prices 
of all things should be low. 


86 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Both these statements are lies. 

Wages in this country are not regulated by the law of 
supply and demand. They are regulated by competition, 
and it is not to the interest of the workers that commodi¬ 
ties should be cheap. 

We will now deal with this law of supply and demand. 

Many people have got muddled over this law of supply 
and demand. Their confusion is caused bv a failure to 

•s 

understand the difference between natural and artificial 
cheapness. 

Suppose we have a community of two men. One of 
them grows wheat, the other catches fish, and they ex¬ 
change their produce. 

If the fisherman has a bad catch and gets less fish than 
usual, then he cannot give so much fish for so much wheat 
as he is wont to do. That is to say, fish is naturally dear. 
If the farmer has a bad harvest then wheat is naturally 
dear. If the fisherman has a great haul of fish, then he 
can give, perhaps, ten times as many fishes as usual for a 
loaf of bread. Fish is naturally “ cheap.” That is to say, 
it is justly cheap, because a greater quantity than usual 
has been got with no more labor than usual, and the just 
basis of exchange value consists in the amount of labor 
embodied in the things exchanged. * 

But now suppose we have a community of three men. 
One is a farmer, and claims the land as his. Another is a 
fisherman who owns the only boat. The third is a laborer, 
who owns nothing but his strength. He cannot grow 
wheat, for the farmer will not let him use the land, nor 
catch fish, for the fisherman will not lend him his boat. 

* Coal is dearer than water because there is more labor involved in get¬ 
ting it, and because it is not so easy to take from place to place. When 
we buy coal we do not pay for the coal, but for the labor used in getting 
the coal and bringing it to our cellars. 


MEEEIE ENGLAND. 


87 


He goes then to the farmer as a laborer, for wages ; and 
the farmer gives him, as wages, just as much wheat as 
will keep him alive. 

The result of this arrangement is that as there are now 
two men working on the land there will be twice as much 
wheat. 

The farmer now gets two shares of wheat, but as he 
only pays the laborer half a share, and keeps a share and 
a half for himself, he can give more wheat to the fisher¬ 
man for his fish. That is to say that wheat is now un¬ 
justly cheap. It is cheap not because of the bounty of 
nature, but because the laborer has been swindled out of 
his rights. 

Something of the same kind would happen in a com¬ 
munity consisting of one farmer and two fishermen. The 
two fishermen would want wheat, and would undersell 
each other. So fish would become cheap to the farmer, 
not because of the law of supply and demand, but because 
of competition. That is to say, because of the disorgani¬ 
zation of industry. 

One of the most flagrant instances of blundering on this 
subject was the speech of Mr. Thomas Burt, M. P., when 
he told the Durham miners they were wrong to strike, 
because “ they might as well try to resist the force of 
gravity as try to keep up wages in a falling market.” Mr. 
Burt does not seem to have thought of such a thing as 
preventing the market from falling. For there must be a 
demand for coal. Coal is a necessary article, and the con¬ 
sumption is rising yearly. The public want coal. They 
must have coal. Turn back now to what I said about the 
exchange of corn for spades. The same rule applies to 
the purchase of coal. The public will pay for coal up to 
the limit of its value to them—if they cannot get it at a 
lower price. 


88 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


It was not, therefore, a decrease in the demand for coal 
which caused the falling market. What was it ? It was 
competition. 

A few months before the Durham strike one of the 
Durham firms took a contract for 280,000 tons of coal at 
62| cents a ton below the Yorkshire prices. 

I said then that the Durham coal owners would try to 
reduce wages, and so they did. 

Their excuse was a “ falling market.” The market was 
falling. But it was falling because they, in their greedy 
desire to steal the Yorkshire trade, had lowered their prices. 

Take the case of the Cheshire salt trade. There was a 
falling market there. Salt went a begging. The salt 
manufacturers made no profits; the men got low wages. 
Why? Because one firm kept undercutting another. 
And I suppose Mr. Burt would have said that it would be 
as easy to resist the force of gravity as to keep up the 
price of salt in a falling market. 

But when the salt syndicate was formed the market 
rose. Why ? Because all the salt was in the hands of 
one firm, and there was no competition. So the price of 
salt went up, and remained up until private firms were 
formed outside the syndicate and competition began. 
Then, of course, the price came down. 

The history of the Standard Oil Trust in America shows 
the same thing. 

If all the coal mines in England belonged to one man, 
we Should hear nothing about falling markets. Coal 
would rise in price. 

Put the mines into the hands of two men, and the 
prices would come down because one owner would under¬ 
sell the other. 

The present code of commercial ethics is, in my opinion, 
opposed entirely to reason and justice. Nearly all our 
practical economists of to-day put the consumer first, and 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


89 


the producer last. This is wrong. There can be no just 
or sane system which does not first consider the producer 
and then wisely and equitably regulate the distribution 
of the things produced. 

And here is an exposition of the reason and justice of 
my position. The community is worked by the division 
of labor. That division of labor ought to be equal and 
fair. If a collier or a tram-guard is overworked or under¬ 
paid, he is being unjustly dealt with by the community 
whom he serves. Take an illustration. Reduce the 
complex community to a simple one. 

There are one hundred families in a small state. Ten 
are wood-cutters, ten hunters, ten shoemakers, ten tailors, 
ten fishermen, and so on. Suppose the wood-cutter works 
fifteen hours a day, and only receives half as much food 
and clothing in return as is received by the rest of the 
community who work ten hours a day. That means that 
fuel is cheap to ninety families, but that all other things 
are dear to ten families. It means that ten families are 
suffering for the advantage of ninety families. It means 
that the public of that state sweat and swindle the wood¬ 
cutters. 

In short, wood is unfairly cheap. 

Take the case of a tram-guard working, say, sixteen 
hours a day for $6 a week. That man is being robbed of 
all the pleasure of his life. His wife and children are 
being deprived of necessary food and comfort. Now there 
ought to be two guards working eight hours at $12 a week. 
If the tram company makes big dividends the increased 
cost should come out of those dividends. If the dividend 
will not pay it, the fares should be raised. If the public 
cannot afford to pay bigger fares they ought to walk. At 
present supposing the dividends to be low, the public are 
riding at the expense of the tram-guard’s wife and 
children. 


90 


ME ERIE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER X. 

WASTE. 

We, of the so-called “ educated ” classes, who take it upon us to he 
the better and upper part of the world, cannot possibly understand our 
relations to the rest better than we may where actual life may be seen 
in front of its Shakespearean image, from the stalls of a theatre. I 
never stand up to rest myself, and look round the house, without re¬ 
newal of wonder how the crowd in the pit, the shilling gallery, alloAv 
us of the boxes and stalls to keep our places! Think of it; those 
fellows behind there have housed us and fed us; their wives have 
washed our clothes, and kept us tidy;—they have bought us the best 
places,--brought us through the cold to them; and there they sit 
behind us, patiently, seeing and hearing what they may. There they 
pack themselves, squeezed and distant, behind our chairs ;—we, their 
elect toys and pet puppets, oiled and varnished, and incensed, lounge 
in front, placidly, or for the greater part, wearily and sickly con¬ 
templative.— Ruskin. 

We saw just now that competition amongst the workers 
lowered wages, and that competition amongst the middle¬ 
men lowered both wages and profits. We also saw that 
both kinds of competition lowered the price of goods to 
the consumer or user. 

This is the one great argument in favor of competition 
—that it reduces the price of commodities or goods. 

It is quite true, as I explained before, that we can buy 
things more cheaply under competition than under a 
monopoly, and this is urged as sufficient proof that compe¬ 
tition is a good thing. “ For,” say the defenders of the 
system, “ we are all consumers, and what is good for the 
consumer is good for all.” 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


91 


% 

Now, I will prove to you beyond all question that the 
one argument advanced in favor of competition is really 
the strongest argument against it. 

I will prove to you beyond all question that this much 
praised cheapness is not always good for the general con¬ 
sumer, and is never good for the producer—that is to say, 
for the working class. 

First, allow me to expound to you my theory of waste. 
I call it my theory because I discovered it myself, and 
because I don’t know that any other writer has ever 
alluded to it, though I may be wrong in that latter par¬ 
ticular. 

The theory of waste goes to show that excessive cheap¬ 
ness is good for no one. 

When a thing is too cheap we waste it. I give you two 
common examples of this : salt and matches. 

Many years ago, whilst riding in a train, I noticed a 
drunken man wasting matches. I had noticed the same 
thing before, but had never thought about it. This time 
I did think about it. 

There happened just then to be a good deal of talk going 
on about the wretched wages and long hours of the match 
and match-box makers. I began to add things up. 

1 saw that at one end of the trade we had people work¬ 
ing long hours for low wages to make matches; and that 
at the other end of the trade we had people wasting 
matches. 

Tell me, from your own experience, is it not true that 
of the gross number of matches bought at least one half 
are wasted ? 

I asked myself, firstly, “ Why do people waste matches ?” 
The answer was ready—“Because matches are so cheap? 
I asked myself, secondly, “ Why are match-makers so 
badly paid ? ” The answer was longer coming, but it 


92 


ME HR IE ENGLAND. 


came at last, in the same words, “ Because matches are so 
cheap.” 

Now I saw plainly enough that when I wasted matches 
I was really wasting the flesh and blood of the fellow 
creatures who made them. But I could not see so plainly 
how that waste might be avoided. 

“ If,” I thought, “ the price of matches was doubled, 
that would pay the match-makers good wages, and it would 
not hurt me, for I should cease to waste them, and so 
should only need one box where I now use two.” 

But then came the question, “Would not that throw 
half the match-makers out of work; and if it did, what 
would become of them ? ” 

That question puzzled me for some time; but at last I 
answered it, and then I began to see all the iniquity of our 
commercial system, and to understand the causes of the 
trouble. 

A few years later in an article on the Salt Trade, I said 
that salt was too cheap and that the proper remedy was 
to regulate the price by wages, and not the wages by the 
price. Thereupon I was attacked by the editor of a 
northern paper, who denied my statement, and suggested 
that I was an ass. 

This editor said :— 

The suggested method of first fixing a good wage for the labor force 
engaged in production, and afterwards fixing the price for the market of 
the commodities produced upon the basis of that wage, is chimerical. 
Take an instance. Blatchford, in his paper, the “ Clarion,” a paper de¬ 
voted to bad economies and music-hall twaddle, instances the Cheshire 
salt trade. He thinks the “ producers ” should have their wages fixed at 
decent sum, and the price of salt to the public regulated by this item. 
Suppose it to be attempted, how would it work ? It would involve a 
higher price for salt in the country to begin with. We could afford that. 
There would be less salt used, and less called for. That would mean 
there would be fewer men needed to produce salt. That is, many men 
employed in that particular industry would be discharged and would be- 


MERR1E ENGLAND. 


93 


take themselves to some other congested branch of industry, to overcrowd 
the workers there, while those that remained would be put on short 
time 1 How does this solve the problem ? 

Now we can draw two inferences from that statement. 
The first is, that the only effect of increasing the price of 
salt would he to throw half the men out of work; the 
second is, that as those men could find no other employ¬ 
ment they had better be left alone. 

We will begin with the second statement, and I will 
show you what nonsense the newspapers of this great 
country print for your instruction, my practical, hard- 
headed friend. 

To begin with, you see that this editor admits three 
things, any one of which is sufficient to have shown him 
that there is something very rotten in our present system 
of trade. 

He owns that if the saltworkers were thrown out of 
work they could find no means of living, because the other 
branches of industry are “ congested.” That is to say, 
that men able and willing to work cannot find work in 
this best of all possible countries. 

But he does not tell you why this evil exists, nor how 
to cure it. 

He owns that a great deal of salt is wasted, and that 
the consumer would be quite as well off if he paid 
double the price he now pays. 

Just consider what these admissions mean. They 
mean that a useful product of nature is being wasted 
and they mean that the labor of a large number of men 
and women is being wasted, and they mean that both 
these wastes could be stopped without hurting any one. 

But this intelligent editor will not allow us to interfere, 
because by stopping the waste we should throw a number 
of men out of work. 


94 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


What are those men doing ? They are wasting their 
time, and they are wasting salt; but we must let them 
go on. 

Our wise editor acknowledges that the salt they make 
is being wasted, but yet we are to continue to pay them 
wages for wasting’it. What do you think of him ? 

Ilis plan is worse than that of employing men to dig 
holes and fill them up again. For then they would only 
waste time. But our clever writer makes them waste 
salt as well. So that his plan is as foolish as paying men 
to make salt and throw it into the river. lie is one of 
those stupid people who think it is all right so long as 
you find the men “ employment.” It is of no consequence 
whether their work is useful work or wasteful work, so 
long as they are kept working. As though a man could 
eat work, and drink work, and wear work, and put work 
in the penny bank against a rainy day. 

What the people want is food and clothing and shelter 
and leisure, not work. Work is a means, and not an end. 
Men work to live, they do not live to work. 

And the joke of the thing is that if these salt-boilers 
were out of work, and we suggested that the corporation 
of their town should employ them to make new roads, 
or drains, to keep them from starving, this misleader of 
the people would be the first to sit upon his editorial 
chair and protest against the employment of the people 
on “ unnecessary work.” 

Or suppose some Socialist writer turned our editor’s 
argument against the use of machinery, and said that no 
machinery ought to be introduced, as its effect would be 
to throw numbers of men out of employment, and drive 
them to seek work in other industries already congested! 
What do you think our editor would call that Social¬ 
ist? 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


95 


And now allow me to add up the sum in two ways, first 
as our editor adds it up, and then as I add it up, and see 
which answer looks most reasonable. 

THE EDITOR’S WAY. 

Half the domestic salt is wasted. Double the price and 
the waste would cease. Then only half as much salt 
would be bought. Therefore only half as much would 
be made. Therefore only half the hands would be needed. 
Therefore half the hands would be out of work. 

MY WAY. 

Half the domestic salt is wasted. Double the price, 
and save half the salt. Then only half as much would be 
bought. Therefore only half as much would be made. 
Therefore the salt-makers who now work twelve hours a 
day, need only work six hours a day. 

How does that strike you, John ? Or you might let 
them work twelve hours a day, and double their wages. 
In which case half of them can be sent to do other work. 
Or you can reduce the hours to eight, and pay them 50 
per cent, more wages, in which case a quarter of the men 
can find other work. The advantages of this plan would 
be that— 

1. No salt is wasted; therefore the supply of salt will 
last twice as long. 

2. The consumer still gets all the salt he can use at the 
price he paid for salt before. 

3. The manufacturer gets the same price for one ton that 
he used to get for two tons. Therefore he saves enough 
in carriage, in wear and tear of machinery, in interest on 
capital, in rent and other ways, to leave him a handsome 
profit. 


96 


MERHIE ENGLAND. 


4. The worker has only half as much work to do; there¬ 
fore he secures a six hours’ day, and his wages remain as 
they were. 

How does that solve the problem ? That, John, is my 
theory of waste. I call it a practical, hard-headed way 
of looking at things. What do you think ? 

Just apply the idea to all the trades where labor or 
material is being wasted, and you will begin to know a 
great deal more than the average newspaper editor, who 
gets his salary by wasting ink and paper, and perpetuat¬ 
ing follies and lies, will ever find out—unless some sensi¬ 
ble person comes to help him. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


97 


CHAPTER XL 

CHEAPNESS ! 

O, God! that bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap. 
— Hood. 

Ah me, into what waste latitudes in this Time-Voyage have we 
wandered, like adventurous Sinbads; where the men go about as if by 
galvanism, with meaningless glaring eyes, and have no soul, but only 
of the beaver faculty and stomach! The haggard despair of Cotton 
Factory, coal mine operatives, Cliandos Farm laborers, in these days 
is painful to behold; but not so painful, hideous to the inner sense, as 
that brutish God-forgetting, profit-and-loss Philosophy and Life-theory, 
which we hear jangled on all hands of us, in senate-houses, spouting 
clubs, leading articles, pulpits and platforms, everywhere as the Ulti. 
mate Gospel and candid plain-English of Man’s Life, from the throats 
and pens and thoughts of all-but all men !— Carlyle. 

Besides the theory of waste, we have another aspect of 
cheapness to consider. 

The defenders of competition say that competition 
lowers the price of commodities to the consumer, and 
they tell us that “ as we are all consumers, what is good 
for the consumer is good for all.” 

This is not true, John Smith ; for, though we are all 
consumers, we are not all producers. 

Remember, John, that the consumer is the user , and 
though he is called the “buyer,” he is more frequently 
the “ taker.” 

But the producer is the maker—the worker. The in¬ 
terests of these two classes are not the same. It is the 
interest of the buyer and the taker that the things made 
by the worker should be sold cheaply. But it is to the 

7 


98 


MERBIE ENGLAND. 


interest of the worker that the things he makes should 
fetch a high price. 

The stupid party will tell you, John, that since you have 
many things to buy and only one thing to sell, it is to 
your interest that all things should be cheap. 

That looks plausible. But, John, what is the one thing 
you have to sell ? It is your labor. And with the money 
you get for your labor you have to pay for all you get. 

Now cheap goods mean cheap labor, and cheap labor 
means low wages. 

You have nothing but your labor to sell, and you are 
told that it will pay you to sell that cheaply. 

Go to a manufacturer and explain to him that it is to 
his interest to sell his woollens cheap, and he will call 
you a fool. Tell a greengrocer that it is to his interest to 
sell his cabbages cheap, and he will throw one at you. 
Why, then, my hard-headed friend, do you believe that 
your interest lies in selling your labor cheap ? 

You don’t believe it. No, what you believe is, that it 
is to your interest that the men of other trades should sell 
their labor cheap. 

But there you may be mistaken. For instance, farm 
labor is cheap. Hence cheap bread. But hence also the 
rush of farm-laborers to the towns. Which causes an 
increase in rent, a decrease in health, and supplies a large 
bulk of blackleg labor with which the capitalist can defeat 
you when you strike. 

And now let me explain this matter clearly and fully. 

In a country were the users were all makers prices 
would not matter. Suppose you are a weaver, I am a 
farmer. I give so much corn for so much cloth. If I 
raise my price you raise yours. That is to say, we simply 
exchange on equal terms. 

But in a country where some of the users are not makers, 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 99 

it is to the interest of the makers that prices should be 
high. Thus:— 

You are a weaver, I am a farmer. But you work for a 
cotton-lord, and I for a landlord. We have now four con¬ 
sumers, and only two producers. That is to say, that you 
and I have now each only one person to buy from; but 
we have each three people to sell to. 

I buy cloth from you, and I sell corn to you, to the 
landlord, and to the cotton-lord. 

You buy corn from me, and sell cloth to me, to the land¬ 
lord, and the cotton-lord. Thus :— 


Weaver’s 

Customers 


{ Landlord. 
Cotton-lord. 
Farmer. 


Farmer’s 

Customers 


1 Landlord. 

' Cotton-lord. 
(Weaver. 


I produce one quarter of wheat and sell it at 40s., of 
which I pay 20s. in rent. You make one piece of cloth 
and sell it at 40s., of which your employer takes 20s. in 
profits. Here is the account:— 

One quarter of wheat .j ^ages 20 j 40 

One piece of cloth .j \y\^ s 20 j 40 

Now when that is sold you will find that each of the 
four persons gets one quarter. Thus:— 


By sale of wheat to Landlord. 10 

to Cotton-lord. 10 

to Weaver. 10 

to Self. 10 

40 

By sale of cloth to Landlord. 10 

to Cotton-lord. 10 

to Farmer. 10 

to Self. 10 

40 













100 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


Now suppose we raise the price 50 per cent, and see 
how it works out:— 


One quarter of wheat 
One piece of cloth 


(Rent 

20 ) 

) Wages 

40 j 

j Profit 

20 } 

{ Wages 

40 j 


GO 

GO 




And we sell it, as before, each to his three customers 
and himself:— 


By sale of wheat to Landlord. 10 

to Cotton-lord. 10 

to Weaver. 20 

to Self. 20 

GO 


By sale of cloth to Landlord. 10 

to Cotton-lord. 10 

to Farmer. 20 

to Self. 20 


GO 

You will see that the landlord and the cotton-lord now 
only get half as much corn and cloth as we get. flow is 
that ? 

It is because the price of the goods has been raised, but 
the rent and interest have not been raised. The two 
idlers have still the same money to spend, but it will not 
buy them as much. Whereas at the low prices we, the 
workers, only got one-half of our earnings, we now get 
two-thirds of our earnings. Whereas the two idlers got 
one-half our earnings they noV only get one-third of our 
earnings. 

This means that we have doubled our wages. It means 
that the value of labor has gone up, and that the value of 
money has gone down. 

Before we can go any further, I must show you my 
method of dividing the nation into three classes, instead 
of into two classes as is usual. 












ME lilt IE ENGLAND. 101 

You are used to the common division of the people into 
two classes, thus :— 

1. The rich idlers. 

2. The poor workers. 

And you too often suppose that only the idle rich are use¬ 
less, and that all the workers are useful. 

This is an error. By this division you get a small class 
of non-producers and a large class of producers. 

But if you add to the idle rich all the domestic servants 
and other people who wait upon them, you will find a 
large class of non-producers and a large class of producers. 

But then again you must sub-divide this large class 
of producers into two classes :— 

1. The producers of useful things. 

2. The producers of useless things. 

And you will find that a very large number of the 
workers are really the servants of the rich, and are work¬ 
ing at the production of things which only the rich use, and 
are supported upon the wages which the rich pay them. 

Now the rich pay them with the money which they, 
the rich, get from the class of the producers of neces¬ 
saries. 

A landlord owns an estate and employs two men to 
cultivate it. We have here only two workers; but we 
have three eaters. The two men have to keep three. 

But if the landlord takes away one of the farmers, and 
employs him to build the landlord a house, we have then 
only one man producing food, but we have still three men 
eating it. One man now has to keep three. 

You understand me, John ? Every person is a consumer 
of necessaries, and those who produce necessaries have to 
produce necessaries for all. 


102 


ME HR IE ENGLAND. 


Now, the lower the price of necessaries the more neces¬ 
saries do the rich and his dependents get, and the less do 
the producers get. 

Cheap food and clothing for the producers mean cheap 
food and clothing for the non-producers. 

The non-producers are kept by the rich upon the money 
taken from the producers. 

The cheaper the food and clothing the less do the pro¬ 
ducers get back from the rich. 

The cheaper the food and clothing are the more non¬ 
producers can the rich feed. 

The more non-producers the rich can feed the more they 
will withdraw from the work of production. 

The more they withdraw from the work of production 
the fewer there will he to produce food and clothing for all. 

The fewer there are to produce food and clothing for 
all, the harder and the longer must those producers work. 

Thus it is quite plain that under capitalism it is to the 
interest of the producer that commodities should be dear. 

But observe, that it is no use the workers forcing up 
their wages unless at the same time they can prevent the 
landlord and the capitalist from raising rent and interest. 

As I showed you before, a monopoly can raise prices. 
But it is well known that a monopoly, like the Oil Trust 
or Salt Syndicate, while raising prices will not raisewages. 

But though a monopoly of capitalists will not serve a 
useful purpose, it may be possible to find some kind of 
monopoly that will serve a useful purpose. 

What we want is a monopoly which will raise wages 
and keep down rent and interest. This is to say, a mono¬ 
poly which will ensure to the worker the enjoyment of all 
the wealth he produces. 

There is only one kind of monopoly which can do this, 
and it is a State monopoly. 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 103 

Now, a State monopoly is Socialism, and I will proceed 
to deal with Socialism in my next chapter. 

But, before leaving this question of cheapness I want to 
anticipate one objection which may be brought against my 
statement that cheap commodities mean cheap labor. 

Some stupid parson, preaching upon a lecture of mine 
which he had heard, but had not understood, declared 
that it was nonsense to say that cheap commodities meant 
cheap labor, for whereas commodities are now universally 
cheaper than they were, wages are universally higher. 

I am not so sure that this is strictly true about the 
advance in wages and fall in prices. Rents are certainly 
higher than they were, and meat is dearer. But whether 
or not it be true that the workers get more money and 
can buy more with it, that has nothing at all to do with 
my argument. 

All commodities are produced by labor, therefore to 
drive commodities down to their cheapest rate must result 
in cheap labor. And you know that as soon as ever 
prices begin to fall the capitalist begins to talk about 
lowering wages. And you know that bread and coal and 
clothing and salt and matches and very many other things 
are simply cheap because the people who produce them 
are not half paid. 

Matches are so cheap that you can get 800 matches for 
twopence-halfpenny. Now, if the retail price of matches 
is 5 cents for 800, what is the wholesale price ? Put it at 
twopence. 

If the manufacturer charges twopence for 800 matches 
after allowing for cost of wood, wick, wax, phosphorus, 
printing, paste, advertisements, carriage, and labor, how 
much do you suppose the manufacturer pays the women 
and children who make the matches ? I don’t know what 
these women and children get. I do know that I have 


104 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


heard of women and girls working sixteen hours a day 
for seven days making match boxes, and earning about 
$1 a week by the work. And I ask you, how is 
a woman to live on $1 a week and pay rent? And 
do you ever consider the lives of the people who make 
these marvellously cheap things ? And do you ever 
think what kind of homes they have; in what kind of 
districts the homes are situated; and what becomes of 
those people when they are too ill, or too old, or too infirm 
to earn even four shillings as the price of a hundred and 
twelve hours work ? 

In my Utopia, when Cain asked, “Am I my brother’s 
keeper,” he would be answered with a stern affirmative. 
In my Utopia a thing would be considered cheap or dear 
according to the price it cost; and not according to the 
price that was paid for it. Matches may be dear —from 
a Utopian point of view—at 5 cents for 800 ; because, you 
see, it may be necessary to add a few items to the cost of 
production which are not charged for in the retail price. 
As thus:— 

Item.—100 women done to death by labor before their time. 

Item.—200 children killed by preventable diseases in the slums. 

Item.—Say, 10 boys driven into a career of crime by hunger and 
neglect. 

Item.—Say, six girls driven to a life of'shame by similar causes. 

Item.—The cost of keeping several broken old male and female 
paupers. 

Item.—Pauper graves for the same. 

Item.—Cost of fat beadle kept to superintend the above old wrecks. 

Item.—An increase of rates for police and prison officials. 

Item.—The parish doctor, the dealer in adulterated gin, the script¬ 
ure reader, the coffin maker, and a fraction of the Cabinet Minister’s 
time spent in proving that “ you cannot interfere with the freedom of 
contract ” nor “tamper with the economic balance between producer 
and consumer.” 

Add all these items on to the match bill, Mr. Smith, and 
tell me if you call those matches cheap. 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


105 


CHAPTER XII. 

SOCIALISM ! 


One thing ought, to be aimed at by all men ; that the interest of each 
individually, and of all collectively, should be the same ; for if each 
should grasp at his individual interest, all human society will be 
dissolved.— Cicero. 

When I balance all these things in my thoughts, I grow more favor¬ 
able to Plato, and do not wonder that he resolved not to make any 
laws for such as would not submit to a community of all things; for 
so wise a man could not but foresee that the setting all upon a level 
was the only way to make a nation happy, which cannot be obtained 
so long as there is property; for when every man draws to himself all 
that he can compass by one title or another, it must needs follow that 
how plentiful soever a nation may be, yet a few dividing the wealth 
of it among themselves, the rest must fall into indigence. So that 
there will be two sorts of people among them who deserve that their 
fortunes should be interchanged, the former useless, but wicked and 
ravenous, and the latter, who by their constant industry serve the public 
more than themselves, sincere and modest men. From whence I am 
persuaded that till property is taken away there can be no equitable 
or just distribution of things, nor can the world be happily governed; 
for so long as that is maintained the greatest and the far best part of 
mankind will be still oppressed with a load of cares and anxieties.— 
Sir Thos. More. 

John Smith, clo you know what Socialism is ? You have 
heard it denounced many a time, and it is said that you 
do not believe in it; but do you know what it is? 

Good or bad, wise or foolish, it is all I have to offer as 
a remedy for the many evils of which I have been 
complaining. 

Good or bad, wise or foolish, Socialism is the only 
remedy in sight. None of its opponents, none of your 
friends, the members of Parliament, old trade union 


106 


ME HR IE ENGLAND. 


leaders, editors, parsons, priests, lawyers, and men of 
substance have any remedy to offer at all. 

Some of them are sorry or profess to be sorry, that 
there is so much misery in the land ; some of them offer 
a little mild charity, some a little feeble legislation, but 
there is no great radical cure to be heard of except 
Socialism. 

What if Socialism ? I am going to tell you, and I ask 

you to listen patiently, and to judge fairly. You have 

heard Socialism reviled by speakers and writers. You 

know that the Pope has denounced it, and that the 

Bishop of Manchester has denounced it. You know that 

men like Herbert Spencer, Charles Bradlaugh, and John 

Morley have written and spoken against it, and doubtless 

you have got an idea that it is as unworthy, as unwise, 

and as unworkable as such men sav it is. Now I will 

%/ 

describe it for you and you shall draw your own con¬ 
clusions. 

But before I tell you what Socialism is, I must tell you 
what Socialism is not. For half our time as champions 
of Socialism is wasted in denials of false descriptions of 
Socialism; and to a large extent the anger, the ridicule, 
and the argument of the opponents of Socialism are 
hurled against a Socialism which has no existence except 
in their own heated minds. 

Socialism does not consist in violently seizing upon the 
property of the rich and sharing it out amongst the poor. 

Socialists do not propose by a single Act of Parliament 
or by a sudden revolution, to put all men on an equality, 
and compel them to remain so. Socialism is not a wild 
dream of a happy land where the apples will drop off the 
trees into our open mouths, the fish come out of the rivers 
and fry themselves for dinner, and the looms turn out 
ready made suits of velvet with golden buttons without 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


107 


the trouble of coaling the engine. Neither is it a dream 
of a nation of stained-glass angels, who never say damn, 
who always love their neighbors better than themselves, 
and who never need to work unless they wish to. 

No, Socialism is none of those things. It is a scientific 
scheme of national Government, entirely wise, just, and 
practical. And now let us see. 

For convenience, sake, Socialism is generally divided 
into two kinds. These are called— 

1. Practical Socialism. 

2. Ideal Socialism. 

Really they are only part of one whole; Practical 
Socialism being a kind of preliminary step towards Ideal 
Socialism, so that we might with more reason call them 
Elementary and advanced Socialism. 

I am an Ideal Socialist, and desire to have the whole 
Socialistic programme carried out. 

Practical Socialism is so simple that a child may under¬ 
stand it. It is a kind of national scheme of co-operation, 
managed by the State. Its programme consists, essen¬ 
tially, of one demand, that the land and other instruments 
of production shall be the common property of the people, 
and shall be used and governed by the people for the 
people. 

Make the land and all the instruments of production 
State property; put all farms, mines, mills, ships, rail¬ 
ways, and shops under State control, as you have already 
put the postal and telegraphic services under State con¬ 
trol, and Practical Socialism is accomplished. 

The postal and telegraphic service is the standing 
proof of the capacity of the State to manage the public 
business with economy and success. 

That which has been done with the post-offices may be 
done with mines, trams, railways, and factories. 


1C 8 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


The difference between Socialism and the state of things 
now in existence will now be plain to you. 

At present the land does not belong the people, but 
to a few rich men. The mines, mills, ships, shops, canals, 
railways, houses, docks, harbors, and machinery do not 
belong to the people, but to a few rich men. 

Therefore the land, the factories, the railways, ships, 
and machinery are not used for the general good of the 
people, but are used to make wealth for the few rich men 
who own them. 

Socialists say that this arrangement is unjust and un¬ 
wise, that it entails waste as well as misery, and that it 
would be better for all, even for the rich, that the land 
and other instruments of production should become the 
property of the State, just as the post-offices have become 
the property of the State. 

Socialists demand that the State shall manage the rail¬ 
ways and the mines and the mills just as it now manages 
the post-offices. 

Socialists declare that if it is wicked and foolish and 
impossible for the State to manage the factories, mines, 
and railways, then it is wicked and foolish and impossible 
for the State to manage the post-offices. 

Socialists declare that as the State carries the people’s 
letters more cheaply and more efficiently than they were 
carried by private enterprise, so it could grow corn and 
weave cloth and work the railway systems more cheaply 
and more efficiently than they are now worked by private 
enterprise. 

Socialists declare that as our Government now makes 
food and clothing and arms and accoutrements for the 
army and navy and police, so it could make them for the 
people. 

Socialists declare that as many corporations make gas, 


MEIiEIE ENGLAND. 


109 


provide and manage the water-supply, look after the 
paving and lighting and cleansing of the streets, and 
often do a good deal of building and farming, so there is 
no reason why they should not get coal, and spin yarn, 
and make boots, and bread, and beer for the people. 

Socialists point out that if all the industries of the na¬ 
tion were put under State control, all the profit, which 
now goes into the hands of a few idle men, would go into 
the coffers of the State—which means that the people 
would enjoy the benefits of all the wealth they create. 

This, then, is the basis of Socialism, that England should 
be owned by the English, and managed for the benefit of 
the English, instead of being owned by a few rich idlers, 
and mismanaged by them for the benefit of themselves. 

But Socialism means more than the mere transference 
of the wealth of the nation to the nation. 

Socialism would not endure competition. Where it 
found two factories engaged in under-cutting each other 
at the price of long hours and low wages to the workers, 
it would step in and fuse the two concerns into one, save 
an immense sum in cost of working, and finally produce 
more goods and better goods at a lower figure than were 
produced before. 

But Practical Socialism would do more than that. It 
would educate the people. It would provide cheap and 
pure food. It would extend and elevate the means of 
study and amusement. It would foster literature and 
science and art. It would encourage and reward genius 
and industry. It would abolish sweating and jerry work. 
It would demolish the slums and erect good and hand¬ 
some dwellings. It would compel all men to do some 
kind of useful work. It would recreate and nourish the 
craftsman’s pride in his craft. It would protect women 
and children. It would raise the standard of health and 


110 


MEIi HIE ENGLAND. 


morality; and it would take the sting out of pauperism 
by paying pensions to honest workers no longer able to 
work. 

Why nationalize the land and instruments of produc¬ 
tion? To save waste; to save panics; to avert trade 
depressions, famines, strikes, and congestion of industrial 
centres ; and to prevent greedy and unscrupulous sharpers 
from enriching themselves at the cost of the national 
health and prosperity. In short, to replace anarchy and 
war by law and order. To keep the wolves out of the 
fold, to tend and fertilize the field of labor instead of al¬ 
lowing the wheat to be strangled by the tares, and to 
regulate wisely the distribution of the seed-corn of in¬ 
dustry so that it might no longer be scattered broadcast 
—some falling on rocks, and some being eaten up by the 
birds of the air. 

I will now give you one example of the difference 
between Socialism and the existing system. 

You remember my chapter on Salt and Waste. Under 
existing conditions what was the state of the salt trade? 

The mines and manufacture owned and carried on by 
a number of firms, each of which competes against all the 
rest. 

Result: Most of the small firms ruined; most of the 
large firms on the verge of ruin. Salt-boilers, the work¬ 
men, working twelve hours a day for 75 cents and the 
public wasting more salt than they use. 

Put this trade under State control. They will cease to 
make salt to waste; they will establish a six-hours day, 
and they will raise the wages of the men to, say, $10 a 
week. 

To pay these extra wages they will abolish all the 
unnecessary middlemen and go-betweens. The whole in¬ 
dustry will be placed under one management. A vast 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


Ill 


number of clerks, agents, travellers, canvassers, and ad¬ 
vertisers will be dispensed with, the salaries of the man¬ 
agers will be almost entirely saved, and the cost of dis¬ 
tribution will be cut down by fully seventy-five per cent. 

The same system would be pursued with other indus¬ 
tries. 

Take the soap trade. There is one firm which spends 
over $500,000 a year in advertisement, and the head of 
that firm makes $500,000 a year in profits. Socialism 
would save all that advertisement, and would pay a man¬ 
ager a reasonable salary and produce the soap at less than 
its present cost, whilst paying the workers good wages 
for shorter hours than they now work. 

You will observe that under Practical Socialism there 
would be wages paid; and, probably, the wages of managers 
would be higher than the wages of workmen ; and the wages 
of artists, doctors, and other clever and highly-trained 
men would be higher than those of weavers or navvies. 

Under Ideal Socialism there would be no money at all, 
and no wages. The industry of the country would be or¬ 
ganized and managed by the State, much as the post- 
office now is ; goods of all kinds would be produced and 
distributed for use, and not for sale, in such quantities as 
were needed, hours of labor would be fixed, and every 
citizen would take what he or she desired from the com¬ 
mon stock. Food, clothing, lodging, fuel, transit, amuse¬ 
ments, and all other things would be abolutely free, and 
the only difference between a prime minister and a collier 
would be the difference of rank and occupation. 

I have now given you a clear idea of what Socialism is. 
If I wrote another hundred pages I could tell you no 
more. But two important tasks remain for me to do. 

First, to give you some idea of the means by which I 
think Socialism could be established. 


112 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Second, to answer the chief arguments commonly used 
against Socialism by its opponents. 

What we have to find out is, can Socialism be estab¬ 
lished, and how? 

And is Socialism just and desirable ; and practicable if 
we can succeed in getting it ? 


MERRIE EXGLAND. 


113 


CHAPTER XIII. 

WHAT ARE WE TO DO? 

The place where a great city stands is not the place of stretched 
wharves, docks, manufactures, deposits of produce merely. 

Nor the place of ceaseless salute of new-comers, or the anchor-lifters 
of the departing, 

Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings, or shops, selling 
goods from the rest of the earth, 

Nor the place of the best libraries and schools, nor the place where 
money is plentiest, .... 

Where the city stands with the brawniest breed of orators and 
bards, 

Where the city stands that is beloved by these, and loves them in 
return and understands them, 

Where no monuments exist to heroes but in the common words and 
deeds, 

Where thrift is in its place, and prudence is in its place, .... 

Where the city of the faithfulest friends stands, 

Where the city of the cleanliness of the sexes stands, 

Where the city of the healthiest father stands, 

Where the city of the best-bodied mothers stands, 

There the great city stands.— Walt Whitman. 

Th«e question is, how can Socialism be accomplished ? 
I confess that I approach this question with great reluc¬ 
tance. The establishment and organization of a Socialis¬ 
tic State are the two branches of the work to which I 
have given least attention. Hitherto I have devoted my 
efforts to teaching the principles of Socialism, and to dis¬ 
proving the arguments brought against it. But I will do 
my best, merely observing that I can lay claim to no 
special knowledge nor to any special aptitude for such a 
task. I have no “ system ” ready cut and dried. I don’t 
8 


114 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


think any sensible Socialist would offer such a system. 
Socialists are practical people in these days, and know 
that coats must be cut according to cloth. 

But on one point I am quite certain, and that is that 
the first thing to do is to educate the people in Socialism. 
Let us once get the people to understand and desire So¬ 
cialism and I am sure we may very safely leave them to 
secure it. 

The most useful work which Socialists can do at present 
is the work of education and organization. 

Socialism will not come by means of a sudden coup . It 
will grow up naturally out of our surroundings, and will 
develop naturally and by degrees. But its growth and its 
development may be materially hastened. 

It always amuses me to hear the intensely practical 
person demand, How are you going to do it ? When will 
you make a start ? Where do you propose to leave off? 

My dear Mr. Smith, it is too late to ask when we are 
going to begin. We have begun. We, or rather they, 
began long ago. Nearly all law is more or less Social¬ 
istic, for nearly all law implies the right of the State to 
control individuals for the benefit of the nation. But of 
late years the law has been steadily becoming more and 
more Socialistic. I will give you a few examples. 

The abolition of toll bars and bridge tolls was Social¬ 
istic action, for it made the roads and bridges common 
property. 

Most of the Building Acts, by virtue of which streets 
must be of a specified width, back-to-back houses are for¬ 
bidden, etc., are Socialistic, for they take away from the 
property owner the power to do as he likes with his 
own. 

The Truck Acts are Socialistic, for they deny the em¬ 
ployer the power to swindle his workmen. The Factory 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 115 

Acts are Socialistic, for they deny the employer the power 
to work women and children to death. 

The Compulsory and Free Education Acts are Socialistic. 
The Acts which compel the inspection of mines and 
factories, the inspection of boilers, the placing of a load- 
line on ships, and the granting of relief to paupers, are 
all Socialistic Acts, for they all interfere with the “ free¬ 
dom of contract ” and the “ rights of the individual.” 
Finally, the acquirement of the postal and telegraphic ar¬ 
rangements by the State, and the establishment of corpo¬ 
rate gas and water works are Socialistic measures, for 
they recognize the Socialistic principle of common owner¬ 
ship, production, and distribution. 

You will see then, that Socialism has begun, so that the 
question of where to begin is quite superfluous. 

As for the question of where we shall leave off, that is 
a foolish question, and only a fool would try to answer it. 
There is no such thing as finality. The world will go on 
after we are dead and forgotten. IIow do I know what 
our grandchildren will do ? Should I not be a conceited 
ass to attempt to lay down laws for them ? My only duty 
towards posterity, Mr. Smith, is to smooth the road for 
them as much as possible, and so give them a fairer chance 
than we have had to make the best of life. 

Socialism will come, of that I feel sure. And it will 
come by paths not seen by me, and will develop in ways 
which I do not dream of. My task is to help its arrival. 

Still, I will offer you, in all modesty, a few ideas on the 
subject. I can at least point out to you some of the things 
that need to be done, and I may even suggest what seems 
to me reasonable ways of doing them. 

What are the things to be done? We want to find 
work for the unemployed. We want to get pensions for 
the aged. We want to abolish the poor-law system. We 


116 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


want to produce our own food so as to be independent of 
foreign nations. We want to get rid of the slums and 
build good houses for the workers. We want to abolish 
the sweater and shorten hours of labor and raise wages. 
We want to get rid of the smoke nuisance, and the pol¬ 
lution of rivers; and we want to place the land and all 
other instruments of production under the control of the 
State. 

Before we can accomplish any of these reforms, we must 
have a public in favor of them, and a Parliament that 
will give effect to the Popular demands. So that the first 
thing we need is education, and the second thing we need 
is a Socialist Party. 

I am well aware that you may have a democratic parlia¬ 
ment and not get Socialistic measures passed. We see 
that in America. But if the Democratic Parliament has 
a Socialistic Public behind it there need be no fear of 
failure. 

Suppose, then, that we have a Socialistic Public and 
Parliament. What is to be done ? It would be presump¬ 
tion for me to instruct such a Parliament. I am only 
giving you, John Smith, my poor ideas. 

Perhaps we should begin with the land Perhaps with 
the unemployed. Perhaps with the mines and railways. 

Suppose we began with the land. The land must be 
made the property of the nation. Very well, what about 
compensation ? 

Personally I am against compensation, but I suppose it 
would have to be given, and my only hope is that it would 
be kept as low as possible. So with the mines and the 
railways. They could be bought, and the smaller the 
price the better. 

Then as to the unemployed. They must be registered 
in their various trades, and set to work. 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


117 


I should divide them into three principal classes— 

1. Agricultural laborers; 

2. General laborers; 

3. Building trades. 

The first I should send to work on State farms, the 
second to work at public improvements, and the third to 
build dwelling-houses for the people. 

I daresay, you may feel rather uneasy at these sugges¬ 
tions, and imagine that I am going to ruin the nation by 
saddling upon it the keep of a vast army of paupers. 

But, my practical friend, the worst use you can put a 
man to is to make a tramp of him. All the tramps, bear 
in mind, and all the able-bodied paupers have to be fed 
and lodged now in some fashion. And although they are 
badly fed, and treated worse than dogs, you must not sup¬ 
pose that they cost little. For you must know that it 
costs about ninepence to give a pauper tlireepennyworth 
of food, and when you take into account the large numbers 
of policemen and other officials who are paid to watch and 
punish and attend to the tramps, it will be quite clear 
that a tramp is a more costly luxury than he appears to 
be. 

But besides that it is much better that a tramp should 
be making something than marring himself; and you 
must not suppose that the State farms would be a burden 
to you. Decently managed, they would soon prove a 
great benefit. 

For don’t you see that all those hands which are now 
idle would then be producing wealth, and when I remind 
you that the best authorities agree that a four-hours day 
would enable the people to produce enough for all, you 
will see that our unemployed could, on those State farms, 
very easily keep themselves. 

Each of these farms would be the base for the forma- 


118 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


tion of a new communal town—one of the Towns of 

•A 

Merrie England. To it would be sent all kinds of crafts¬ 
men : tailors, shoemakers, joiners, and the like, so that 
each commune would be complete in itself. 

Houses upon a new model, to be arranged by a special 
State Board of architects, artists, sanitary engineers, and 
Socialists, would be built for the workers, with baths, 
libraries, dining-rooms, theatres, meeting-rooms, gardens, 
and every kind of institution needful for the education, 
health, and pleasure of the people. 

Understand, further, that these men would not be 
treated as paupers. They would be treated as honorable 
citizens, and after rent and other charges had been paid 
to the State, they would receive all the produce of their 
labor. 

Pensions would be granted to the aged poor, and all 
the workhouses and casual wards would be abolished. 

There would be no such thing as a pauper, or a man 
out of work, or a beggar or a tramp. 

Meanwhile it would be a wise thing to form a com¬ 
mission of the cleverest mechanical engineers and inventors 
for the purpose of developing electricity, so as to do away 
with steam power, with gas lighting, and the smoke 
nuisance. 

Then we should very probably establish a universal 
eight-hours day, and a plan for educating and feeding all 
children free at the public schools. 

We should nationalize the railways, ships, canals, dock¬ 
yards, mines, and farms, and put all those industries 
under State control. 

We should have an Agricultural Minister just as we 
now have a Postmaster-General. He would be held re¬ 
sponsible that the department under him produced bread 
and vegetables, meat and fruit for 36 millions of people, 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


119 


just as the Postmaster-General is now held responsible 
for the carriage and delivery of our letters. 

So by degrees we should get all the land and instru¬ 
ments of production into the hands of the State, and so 
by degrees we should get our industry organized. These 
are my ideas. They are very crude, and of course very 
imperfect. But don’t trouble on that score. When your 
Public understands Socialism and desires to establish it 
there will be no difficulty about plans. Just get a num¬ 
ber of your cleverest organizers and administrators into 
committee and let them formulate a scheme. Depend 
upon it they will produce a much better scheme than 
mine, though I think even mine is better than none at all, 
and as I said before I only offer it to give you an idea of 
the possibilities of the task before us. 

This question of Socialism is the most important and 
imperative question of the age. It will divide, is now 
dividing, society into two camps. In which camp will you 
elect to stand? On the one side there are individualism 
and competition—leading to a “ great trade ” and great 
miseries. On the other side is justice, without which can 
come no good, from which can come no evil. On the one 
hand, are ranged all the sages, all the saints, all the mar¬ 
tyrs, all the noble manhood and pure womanhood of the 
world; on the other hand, are the tyrant, the robber, the 
manslayer, the libertine, the usurer, the slave-driver, the 
drunkard, and the sweater. Choose your party, then, my 
friend, and let us get to the fighting. 


120 


MElilUE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE INCENTIVE OF GAIN. 


Supply-and-demand,—Alas! for what noble work was there ever 
yet any audible “ demand ” in that poor sense ? The man of Macedo¬ 
nia speaking in vision to an Apostle Paul, “ Come over and help us,” 
did not specify what rate of wages he would give! Or was the Chris¬ 
tian Religion itself accomplished by Prize Essays, Bridgewater 
Bequests, and a “ minimum of four thousand five hundred a year? ” 
No demand that I heard of was made them, audible in any Labor 
Market, Manchester Chamber of Commerce, or other the like em¬ 
porium and hiring establishment; silent were all these from any 
whisper of such demand; powerless were all these to “ supply it ” had 
the demand been in thunder and earthquake, with gold El Dorados 
and Mahometan Paradises for the reward.— (Jarlyle. 

Each life’s unfulfilled, you see, 

It hangs still patchy and scrappy; 

We have not sighed deep, laughed free, 

Starved, feasted, despaired, been happy. 

— Browning. 

We will how proceed to consider some of the stock 
arguments used against Socialism. 

Non-Socialists are in the habit of saying that Socialism 
demands a complete change in human nature. They say 
Socialism is very pretty in theory, hut that it is wrong 
because human nature is not good enough for Socialism. 
They tell us that we Socialists are mistaken because we 
have built up a scheme without first considering human 
nature. They are entirely mistaken. 

The fact is that we Socialists have studied human 
nature, and that our opponents only object to Socialism 
because they do not understand human nature at all. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


121 


“ Socialism,” say these critics, “ is impossible, because 
it would destroy the incentive of gain.” The incentive of 
gain. 

And then they quote the dogma of the political econo¬ 
mist :— 

The social affections are accidental and disturbing elements in 
human nature, hut avarice and the desire of progress are constant ele¬ 
ments. 

Avarice, they say, is a constant element of human 
nature, and they proceed to build up what they foolishly 
call “a science” of human affairs upon this one single 
element. They ignore the second element, “ The desire 
of progress” which I have marked in italics, and the only 
conclusion we can come to, after reading their stupid 
books and shallow articles, is the conclusion that they 
recognize avarice, that is love of money, as the ruling pas¬ 
sion of mankind. 

This assumption of the economists is due to ignorance, 
to the densest ignorance of the human nature which they 
tell us we have failed to study. 

Political economy is a science of human affairs. Every 
science which professes to be a science of human affairs, 
must be built upon an estimate of human nature. If it is 
built upon a false conception of human nature, the science 
is a failure. If it is built upon a true conception of 
human nature, the science is a success. 

Now the political economy of our opponents is built 
upon a false conception of human nature. In the first 
place, it recognizes only one motive, which is sheer folly. 
In the second place, it assumes that the strongest motive 
is avarice, which is untrue. 

These flaws are due to the fact that the founders and 
upholders of this system of grab and greed are men who 
have never possessed either the capacity or the opportunity 


122 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


for studying human nature. Mere bookmen, school-men, 
business-men, and logic-choppers can never be authorities 
on human nature. The great authorities on hum all nature 
are the poets, the novelists, the artists, and the men whose 
lives and labors bring them into daily contact with their 
fellow creatures. 

The only school for the study of human nature is the 
world. The only text-books are the works of men like 
Shakespeare, Hugo, Cervantes, Sterne, and other students 
who learned in that school. 

But the effectual study of human nature demands from 
the student a vast fund of love and sympathy. You will 
never get admitted into the heart of a fellow-creature un¬ 
less you go as a friend. 

I remember as a child reading a fairy tale of a prince 
who had given to him a feather of magic properties. 
When he touched people with that feather they spoke 
what was in their mind. Such a feather with such 
powers you may have any day if you will, and the name 
of it is love. That is the magic feather of Shakespeare, 
of Sterne, and of Cervantes. If you would witness the 
manifestation of its power, go to your books and make 
acquaintance with Sancho Panza and Uncle Toby, and 
with Rosalind and Dogberry, and Mercutio and Macbeth. 

The study of human nature is a most difficult one. 
Only specially-gifted men can master it; and that with 
much pains. Judge, then, for yourself whether the mot¬ 
ley mob of ready-writers in the press are authorities on 
such a subject. Judge for yourself whether a man who 
spends all his days in the study of economics and the 
mathematic sciences is qualified to build up a system 
which depends upon a deep and wide knowledge of the 
souls of men. Go now and contrast the Frankenstein 
monster of the political-economist with Sterne’s “ Mule- 


ME BE IE ENGLAND. 


123 


teer,” Eliot’s “ Silas Marner,” Shakespeare’s “ Hamlet,” or 
Rabelais’ “ Panurge,” and decide for yourself as to wheth¬ 
er or not the study of literature is of any use in the study 
of Social Science. 

Consider the lady nurse at the seat of war. Gentle, 
delicate, loving, and lovable, of high intelligence, of great 
beauty, young, refined, and educated, she leaves pleasure 
and home and ease, and all the pomps and flatteries of 
courts and assemblies, to labor amid peril and hardship 
and all the sickening and dreadful sounds and sights of 
the battle-field, the hospital, and the camp. Amid pesti¬ 
lence and blood, amid death and mutilation, you find her, 
calm and gentle and fearless. Dressing loathsome 
wounds, soothing fevered heads, hearing the imprecations 
and the groans of delirious and sick men, always unself¬ 
ish, always patient, always kind, with but one motive 
and that charity, without any crown or recompense of 
glory or reward—such is the lady nurse at the skat of 
war. It is a noble picture—is it not ? Well, that is human 
nature. 

Consider now the outcast Jezebel of the London pave¬ 
ment. Fierce and cunning, and false and vile. Ghastly 
of visage under her paint and grease. A creature debased 
below the level of the brutes, with the hate of a devil in 
her soul and the fire of Hell in her eyes. Lewd of gesture, 
strident of voice, wanton of gaze ; using language so foul 
as to shock the pot-house ruffian, and laughter whose sound 
makes the blood run cold. A dreadful spectre, shame¬ 
less, heartless, reckless, and horrible. A creature whose 
touch is contamination, whose words burn like a flame, 
whose leers and ogles make the soul sick. A creature 
living in drunkenness and filth. A moral blight. A beast 
of prey who has cast down many wounded, whose victims 
fill the lunatic ward and the morgue; a thief, a liar, a 


124 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


hopeless, lost, degraded wretch, of whom it has been well 
said, “ Her feet take hold of Hell; her house is the way to 
the grave, going down to the chamber of death.” It is an 
awful picture—is it not? But that is human nature. 

There is the character of Don Quixote, that is human 
nature, so is the character of Sancho Panza. The same 
applies to the characters of Sam Weller and Bill Sikes, of 
Hermione and Lady Macbeth, of Ancient Pistol and Corio- 
lanus, of Corporal Trim and Corporal Brock, of John Knox 
and Charles II., of Voltaire and Martin Luther, of Grace 
Darling and Carmen, of John Wesley and Tom Sayers. 

There is human nature in Raleigh’s spreading of the 
cloak before the Queen; in the wounded Sydney giving 
up the cup of water to the wounded soldier; in Kelson on 
the deck of the “ Victory ” with his breast ablaze with 
orders; in Napoleon afraid to die at Sedan; in St. Paul’s 
endurance of stripes and contumely ; in Judas selling his 
master for thirty pieces of silver. 

Human nature is a complex and an awful thing. It is 
true of man that he is fearfully and wonderfully made. 
But consider all these types of humanity, picture to your¬ 
self the soldier at his post, the thief at his work, the smith 
at the forge, the factory girl at the loom, the actor on the 
stage, the priest at his prayers, the sot at his can, the 
mother with her babe, the widow at the husband’s grave, 
the judge in his wig, the Indian in his paint, the farmer 
at the plough, the beggar asleep in the ditch, the peer 
with his betting book, the surgeon with his knife, the 
street arab in the slums, and the young girl dreaming 
over a love tale, and then recall to your mind the blood¬ 
less, soulless abortion of the political economist, and the 
“unit” of “Society,” whose purpose in life is to “pro¬ 
duce,” and whose only motive power is the “ desire for 
gain.” 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


125 


The last refuge of Gradgrind, when he is beaten by 
Socialistic argument, is the assertion that human nature 
is incapable of good. But this is not true. Men instinct¬ 
ively prefer light to darkness, love to hate, and good to 
evil. 

The most selfish man would not see a fellow-creature 
die or suffer if he could save him without personal cost 
or risk. 

Only a lunatic would wantonly destroy a harvest or 
poison a well, unless he might thereby reap some personal 
advantage. 

It is clear, therefore, that men will do good for its own 
sake; but they will not do evil except with the hope of 
gain. And this may be said of the lowest and the basest 
types of mankind. But of the highest, even of the inter¬ 
mediate types of mankind, how much more may be said ? 
So much more, indeed, as may overthrow Gradgrind and 
his brutal theories, and bury him and them in the ruins 
of his arguments of ashes and of his defences of clay. 
For mankind turn to the sun, even to seeking it through 
fog and storm. They will obey God’s commandment 
when they can hear it, and resist the temptations of Satan 
with such power as they possess. True are the words of 
Tennyson:— 

We needs must love the highest when we see it, 

Not Launcelot, nor another. 

“ Miserabler theory ”—says Carlyle—“ miserabler the¬ 
ory than that of money on the ledger being the primary 
rule for empires, or for any higher entity than city owls, 
and their mice-catching, cannot be propounded.” 

Major Burke, of the Wild West, told me one day that 
on the prairies the cowboys went about finger on trigger, 
ever on the qui vive for an ambush. If a leaf stirred they 


126 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


fired, if a twig snapped they fired; and in about five cases 
out of a hundred they shot an Indian. 

This is the state in which men live under a competitive 
commercial system. It is war. The hand of every man 
is against every man’s hand. Men move finger on trigger, 
and fire at the falling of a leaf. But in a Socialistic state 
of society they would no more go armed and in fear of 
their fellow-creatures than did the Wild West Cowboys 
in London. 

Then the Church speaks, saying that men are born bad. 
Now, I hold that human nature is not innately bad. I 
take the scientists’ view that man is an undeveloped 
creature. That he is a being risen from lower forms of 
life, that he is slowly working out his development—in 
an upward direction—and that he is yet a long way from 
the summit. IIow far he is below the angels, how far 
above the brutes, in his pilgrimage is a matter for dis¬ 
pute. I believe that he is a great deal better than the 
Church and the economist suppose him to be; and that 
the greater part of what these superior persons call his 
“badness” is due to the conditions under which he lives, 
or in which he and his fathers have been bred. 

It is no use arguing whether or not man is bad by 
nature, and without respect to circumstances. Man is a 
creature of circumstances. You cannot separate him 
from his surroundings, or he ceases to exist. We will 
waive the discussion of what man might be, and concede 
to our opponents the advantage of considering him as he 
is. We will consider man as we see him, and his circum¬ 
stances as we see them. 

The question asked is whether human nature is bad. 
We must begin by asking under what circumstances? 
Will a peach tree bear peaches? Yes, if planted in good 
soil and against a south wall. Will a rose tree flourish in 


MEBRIE ENGLAND. 


127 


England ? Not if you set it in an ash-heap and exclude 
the light and air. Is a river a beautiful and a wholesome 
thing? Yes, when it is fed by the mountain streams, 
washed by the autumn rains, and runs over a pebbly bed, 
between grassy meadows decked with water lilies, fringed 
with flowering rushes, shaded by stately trees; but not 
when it is polluted by city sewers, stained by the refuse 
of filthy dye-vats and chemical works ; not when its bed 
is slime, its banks ashes, and when the light falling upon 
it is the flame of forges, and the shadows those of mills, 
and manure works, and prisons. Is human nature sweet, 
and holy, and fruitful of good things? Yes. When it 
gets light and air and culture, such as we give to the 
beasts of the farm and to the lilies of the field; but when 
it is poisoned and perverted and defiled, when it is crushed, 
cursed, and spat upon, then human nature becomes bad. 
Tell me, then, shall we, in judging rivers, take the Irwell; 
or shall we, in judging men, take the slums, or the City 
Council or the House of Commons, or the Bourse, or the 
Stock Exchange, or any other body where vulgarity, and 
aggression, and rascality, and selfish presumption arc the 
elements of success ? No thing on this earth can be good 
under adverse conditions—not the river, not the green 
grass, not the skylark, nor the rose; but if a thing can be 
good under propitious circumstances we say of it, “ This 
is good.” We say that of all the things of the earth ex¬ 
cept man. Of man we say, without hesitation and with¬ 
out conditions—“ He is bad.” 

We will leave the Mongolian, the Turanian, and other 
inferior races out of our calculation, and take the Cau¬ 
casian race as the type of humanity. Then it may be 
said that several intellectual qualities are common to all 
men. The average man, under average conditions, is 
fond of woman, fond of children—especially his own. He 


m 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


is also fond of himself. He likes to succeed. He likes 
to be admired. He enjoys his food and drink. He likes 
excitement and variety. He likes to laugh. He admires 
beauty, and is pleased with music. 

Now consider how these qualities of the body and the 
mind may be acted upon by circumstances. We know 
how the pure passion of love may be debased. We know 
how men may become so brutalized that they will-ill-use 
women; that they will cease to love and cherish their 
children. We know how a man grows selfish and cruel. 
We know how he sinks to sottishness, to gluttony, to 
torpid, savage boorislmess. We know we have with us 
vast numbers of rich and poor, of respectable and disrep¬ 
utable liars and rogues and beasts and dastards. Is that 
the fault of human nature ? Or is it the fault of the evil 
influences that choke and poison human nature? 

Gradgrind tells me that greed is the chief motor of the 
human heart. It has been so called by generations of 
shallow cynics and stupid dunces before him ; and, as he 
never thinks for himself, he has never found out the error. 
But let any man look about him and think of what he 
sees, and I believe that he will agree with me that what 
phrenologists call “ Love of approbation ” is a hundred¬ 
fold a stronger force than greed. What observer of life 
will deny this ? Is it not plain to all when the eyes are 
opened that the desire to get praise or admiration is a 
stronger motive than the desire to get money ? Nay, this 
desire to get wealth is only one out of a thousand conse¬ 
quences of the love of approbation. Only a miser loves 
money for its own sake. The great bulk of our graspers 
and grubbers value money for what it wilt bring. A few 
and to a small extent because it brings them luxury, ease, 
indulgence. A larger number, and to a greater extent, 
because it saves them and theirs from the risks of penury 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


129 


and degradation. A great preponderance, and to the 
widest extent, because it wins them the admiration, the 
wonder, the envy, and the services of their fellows. 

Greed is not the strongest passion of the human heart. 
A much stronger passion is vanity. Yet I will not say 
that vanity is the chief motor of human action. Is it 
too harsh a word—“vanity”? Perhaps it is—in some 
cases. Or perhaps it only sounds too harsh because often 
enough vanity is intertwined with other and nobler feel¬ 
ings. One would not call Nelson vain. He had a strong 
desire to win the love and admiration of his countrymen, 
no doubt. But twisted in with the threads of that feeling 
were the golden strands of patriotism, of courage, of duty. 
We cannot say how much of a hero’s life is prompted by 
his wish to be loved by his countrymen, and how much 
by his own love for his countrymen. I am inclined to 
think that wherever the desire for approbation can be 
disentangled from other feelings, it may be fairly written 
down as vanity. 

And how far-stretched this vanity is—this love of ap¬ 
probation. From the Prime Minister, airing his elo¬ 
quence on the integrity of the Empire, or polishing up his 
flimsy epigrams in his study, down through all the steps 
of the social ladder—the ambassador in his garter, the 
general in his plumed hat, the actor in his best part, and 
the costermonger with pearl buttons on his trousers—all 
are tinged with vanity, all have in them the desire, the 
yearning, to be thought well of. This desire is stronger 
than the thirst for pelf. Men who would scorn to be paid 
will not scorn to be applauded. It is so strong that no 
man nor woman is free from its influence. Indeed it 
must be of this importance, for divested of the love 
and respect of all our fellow creatures, life would cease 
to be endurable. But life is quite endurable without 
9 


130 


ME JR Tt IE ENGLAND. 


wealth. And there are many people who do not desire 
wealth. 

Do you think the whole of the prosperous and wealthy 
classes would resolutely oppose Socialism if they under¬ 
stood it? I don’t know about that. Do men seek or 
hold wealth for its own sake, or for what it will buy ? 
For what it will buy. And the tilings they suppose they 
can buy with wealth, what are they? Admiration and 
enjoyment. Now if you could convince men that admira¬ 
tion and enjoyment could not be bought with wealth, but 
could be got without wealth, is it not possible that Mam¬ 
mon would lose his worshippers ? 

As society is at present constituted nearly every man 
gets as much money as he can. What are the ordinary 
motives for this conduct ? Plutocrat says, “ I can make 
a fortune out of the cotton trade, and why should I not ? 
If I don’t make it some other man will; and perhaps the 
other man will be a rogue.” You see, men cannot trust 
each other. Under the operation of unfettered individual 
enterprise, life is a scramble. A man knows he could live 
on less than ten thousand a year, and he knows that 
multitudes are hungry. But if he foregoes the making 
of a fortune it will not benefit the poor. Some other man 
will seize on what he relinquishes, and the scramble will 
go on. So men amass wealth because they think they 
might as well do it as let another do it in their stead. 

There is another thing. Plutocrat will tell you he has 
a wife and family to provide for. He knows the world 
too well to leave a widow and children to the tender 
mercies of his brother graspers. It is every man for him¬ 
self and the weakest to the wall. So he will grind other 
people to make money to prevent other people from grind¬ 
ing his children. He is right in a great measure. It is 
his duty to provide for his wife and children. And under 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


131 


our present system of robbery and murder Dy individual 
enterprise the widow and the orphan will find none to 
pity and defend them—unless they can pay for value 
received. 

Again, in a commercial era and in a commercial nation 
wealth is the reward of merit, the crown of honor and the 
sign of virtue. Every man dreads failure. Wealth 
stamps him with the hall-mark of success, and truly that 
hall-mark is borne by some very spurious metals ; some 
most evident Brummagem jewels. 

It seems, then, that to deprive money-grubbing of its 
power to mislead we must make great social changes. 
We must assure men that in no case should their children 
want. We must assure men that the possession of 
wealth will not bring them honor. We must assure men 
that justice will win them respect and not contempt, and 
that the good man who forbears to fill his coffer at the 
public expense need not fear to see some rascal render his 
generosity abortive. 

The Gradgrind supposes greed to be the ruling passion 
because in the Society he knows most men strive to get 
money. But why do they strive to get money ? There 
are two chief motives. One the desire to provide for or 
confer happiness upon children, on friends; the other the 
desire to purchase applause. But in the first case the 
motive is not greed, but love ; and in the second case it is 
not greed, but vanity. Only a miser covets money for its 
own sake. Both love and vanity are stronger passions 
than greed. 

Will the desire of gain make progress? Suppose a 
man to have a thirst for money and success, but no 
genius. Can he for a prize of ten thousand pounds invent 
a printing press? No. For though the impetus is there 
the genius is absent. But suppose he has the genius and 


132 


ME R JR IE ENGLAND. 


no prize is offered! Can lie then invent the machine? 
Yes. Because he has the genius to do it. We see, then, 
that greed cannot invent machines, but genius can. 

Now, if a prize be offered for a new machine, will a man 
of no genius make it? No. lie will try for the sake of 
the prize; but he will fail for lack of brains. But no 
prize being offered, will the man of genius, seeing a use 
for a new machine, invent it? He will. History proves 
that he will invent and does invent it, not only without 
hope of gain, but even at risk of life and liberty. 

It seems, then, that genius without mercenary incentives 
will serve the world ; but that mercenary motives with¬ 
out genius will not. 

In proof of which argument look back upon the lives 
of such men as Galileo, Bruno, Newton, and indeed the 
bulk of the explorers, scientists, philosophers, and mar¬ 
tyrs. Love of truth, love of knowledge, love of art, love 
of fame, are all stronger motives than the love of gain, 
which is the only human motive recognized by a system 
of political economy supposed to be founded on human 
nature. 

It is the mistake of a blockhead to suppose that because 
sometimes genius can make money therefore money can 
always make genius. 

For the sake of love, for the sake of duty, for the sake 
of pity, for the sake of religion, and for the sake of truth, 
men and women have resigned their bodies to the flames, 
have laid their heads upon the block, have suffered im¬ 
prisonment, disgrace, and torture, and starvation. Who 
will do as much for money ? 

Money never had a martyr. In Mammon’s bible the 
text of the Christian Bible is altered. It reads, “ What 
shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose 
his own life?” Men wWifight for money; but they will 


ME ERIE ENGLAND. 


133 


not die for it. Now millions have died for honor, for love, 
for religion, for duty, for country, for fame. And how 
then can any sensible person stand by the base and 
brutish dogma that greed is the chief motor of the human 
heart? 

It seems an amazing thing to me, this persistence in 
the belief that greed is the motive power of humanity. 
The refutation of that error is forever under our noses. 
You see how men strive at cricket; you see the intense 
effort and the fierce zeal which they display at football; 
you see men nearly kill themselves in boat races, on 
cycling tracks and running grounds ; you know that these 
men do all this without the hope of a single penny of 
gain, and yet you tell me in the face of the powerful foot¬ 
ball combinations, and rowing clubs, and cricket clubs, 
and with a quarter of a million of volunteers amongst 
you, and with the records of Inkerman, and Lucknow, 
and Marston Moor on your shelves, and with the walls of 
the hospitals, and the life-boats of the Royal Humane 
Society, and the spires of your churches, and the convents 
of the Sisters of Charity, and the statues of your Crom¬ 
wells, and Wellingtons and Nelsons, and Cobdens, all 
ready for you to knock your stupid heads against, that 
the only reliable human motive is—the desire for gain. 

Look about you and see what men do for gain, and 
what for honor. Your volunteer force—does that exist 
for gain? Your lifeboat service, again—is that worked 
by the incentive of dirty dross ? What will not a soldier 
do for a tiny bronze cross, not worth a crown piece? 
What will a husband endure for his wife’s sake ? a father 
for his children ? a fanatic for his religion ? But you do 
not believe that Socialism is to destroy all love, and all 
honor, and all duty and devotion, do you? 

And now I have addressed you in a homely, simple 


184 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


fashion, allow me to quote a passage or two from Carlyle, 
and note how he in his magnificent language and with 
lavish wealth of dazzling pictures, says what I have said 
in my weaker and cruder way. Maybe, if you do not 
think my words of weight, nor my name of force suffi¬ 
cient, you will respect the utterances of one of the greatest 
thinkers and speakers England ever bred. I quote from 
“ Past and Present ” :— 

Let the Captains of industry retire into their own hearts and ask 
solemnly if there is nothing but vulturous hunger for fine wines, valet 
reputation, and gilt carriages discoverable there. Of hearts made by 
the Almighty God I will not believe such a thing. Deep-hidden 
under wretchedest God-forgetting cants, epicurisms, dead sea-apisins; 
forgotten as under foulest fat Lethe mud and weeds, there is yet, in 
all hearts born unto this God’s world, a spark of the Godlike still 
slumbering. 

And again, my friend :— 

Buccaneers, Choctaw Indians, whose supreme aim in fighting is 
that they may get the scalps, the money—that they may amass scalps 
and money—out of such comes no chivalry, and never will. Out of 
such come only gore and wreck, infernal rage and misery, desperation 
quenched in annihilation. Behold it, I bid thee; behold there, and 
consider. What is it that you have a hundred thousand pound bills 
laid up in your strong room: a hundred scalps hung up in your wig¬ 
wam? I value not them or thee. 

And yet again :— 

Love of men cannot be bought by cash payment; without love men 
cannot endure to be together. 

The incentive of gain! 


MERR1E ENGLAND. 


135 


CHAPTER XV. 

A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF- ? 

In Cceur-de-Lion’s day, it was not esteemed of absolute necessity to 
put agreements between Christians in writing! Which if it were not 
now, you know we might save a great deal of money, and discharge 
some of our workmen round Temple Bar, as well as from Woolwich 
Dockyards.— Raskin. 

The quotation at the end of the last chapter brings us 
naturally to the subject of competition. 

Of all the many senseless and brutal theories which 
practical men support, the most fatuous and bestial is the 
theory of competition. 

I use the word theory advisedly. You practical men 
are fond of scoffing at all humane systems of thought or 
government as mere “ theories.” It is one of the vainest 
of your vanities to believe that you have no theories at all. 

Why, John, you practical men have as many theories 
as any Socialist. But the distinctive marks of all your 
theories are their falsity, their folly, and their utter 
imp rac ticabil i ty. 

For instance, your practical man swears by political 
economy. But it is by the political economy of the older 
writers. It is the science of the men who were only 
blundering over the construction of a rude and untried 
theory. The later and wiser political economy you prac- 
t’cal men either do not know or will not accept. You 
resemble a railway director who should insist upon having 
his locomotives made to the exact pattern of Stephenson’s 



136 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


“Rocket.” Your economy isn’t up to date, John. You 
cannot grasp a new idea—you are so practical. 

One of the laws of your practical school is the law that 
“ Society flourishes by the antagonism of its individuals.” 

That is the theory of competition. It means that war 
is better than peace, that a nation where every man tries 
to get the better of his neighbor will be happier and 
wealthier, more prosperous and more enlightened than a 
nation where every man tries to help his neighbor. 

Practical men are not usually blessed with nimble wits. 
Allow me to offer you new readings of a few old proverbs 
for use in competitive societ}^. 

Union is weakness. There’s a nice terse motto for you. 
It means just what is meant by the imbecile axiom that 
“ Society flourishes by the antagonism of its individuals.” 

A house divided against itself shall stand. How does 
that suit your practical mind ? It is the same idea—the 
idea upon which all opposition to Socialism is built up. 

It is better to make one enemy than a hundred friends. 

The greatest good of the smallest number. 

Waste not have not. 

Seest thou a man diligent in his business, he shall give 
his wealth to princes. 

Only a practical, hard-headed people could listen to such 
propositions without laughing. 

You are not good at theories, my practical friend. This 
competitive theory is rank blockheadism. Allow me to 
show you. I will test it first by theory, and then we will 
see how it comes out in practice. 

Suppose two men had to get a cart up a hill. Would 
they get it up sooner if one tried to push it up whilst the 
other tried to push it down ; or if both men tried to pull 
it up ? 

Suppose two men tried to catch a colt. Which would 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


137 


be the wiser plan, for each man to try to prevent the other 
from catching it, or for each man to help the other to 
catch it? 

Suppose a captain had to bring a ship from New York 
to Liverpool. Would he allow half-a-dozen men to fight 
for the post of helmsman, or the whole crew to scramble 
for the job of setting sail ? 

No, he would set his crew in order, and send each man 
to his proper post. 

When there is a fire-panic in a theatre, how do people 
lose their lives ? Is it not by all scrambling and fighting 
to get through the narrow doors? And the result of such 
a scramble. Is it not the blocking of the exit ? But you 
must know very well that if the people kept cool, and went 
out quickly, and in an orderly way, they would all escape. 

John, if a hundred men had a hundred loaves of bread, 
and if they piled them in a heap and fought for them, so 
that some got more than they could eat, and some got 
none, and some were trampled to death in the brutal 
scuffle, that would be competition. Were it not for com¬ 
petition the hundred men would be all fed. 

That, John, is the theory of competition. What do 
you think of it ? 

And now let us be practical. You have fallen into the 
stupid error of supposing that competition is better than 
co-operation, partly because you have never seen anything 
but competition in practice, and partly because you have 
not very clear sight, nor very clear brains. 

You know that when a railway company, or salt com¬ 
pany, or a coal company, has a monopoly the public gets 
worse served than when there are several companies in 
competition with each other. 

And you suppose that because competition beats monop¬ 
oly therefore competition is better than co-operation. 


138 


MEBRIE ENGLAND. 


But if you were not rather slow, John, you might have 
noticed that co-operation and monopoly are not the same 
things. Co-operation is the mutual helpfulness of all; 
monopoly is the plundering of the many by the few. 

Give one man a monopoly of the coal mines and coals 
would go up in price ; the miners’ wages would not. 

But there is a great difference between making the 
collieries the property of one man, and making them the 
property of the whole people. 

Now the Socialists propose to make them the property 
of the whole people. And they say that if that were done 
the price of coals would be the natural price. That is to 
say, it would be the price of the proper keep of the 
colliers. 

Or, for you’ll possibly understand this better, being a 
practical man, they say that the State could work the coal 
mines better and more cheaply—with less waste of labor 
—than could a private firm, or a number of firms in com¬ 
petition. 

This is because a great deal of the time and energy of 
the private firms under competition is spent, not in the 
production and distributing of coals, but in the effort to 
undersell and overreach each other. 

And fortunately, we have one actual example of this 
existing in the postal and telegraphic departments of the 
State. For it is a fact which no one attempts to deny 
that the post-office manages this branch of the national 
business a great deal better than it ever was or ever could 
be managed by a number of small firms in competition 
with each other. 

In an earlier chapter I gave you some idea of the waste 
entailed by competition. 

“ Elihu,” in his excellent pamphlet, “ Milk and Postage 
Stamps,” deals very fully with this matter. He says :— 


ME BRIE ENGLAND. 


139 


Taking soap as an example, it requires a purchaser of this com¬ 
modity to expend a shilling in obtaining sixpennyworth of it, the 
additional sixpence being requisite to cover the cost of advertising, 
travelling, etc.; it requires him to expend Is. l^d. to obtain two penny¬ 
worth of pills for the same reason. For a sewing machine he must, 
if spending £7 on it, part with £4 of this amount on account of un¬ 
necessary cost; and so on in the case of all widely-advertised articles. 
In the price of less advertised commodities there is in like manner in¬ 
cluded as unnecessary cost a long string of middlemen’s profits and 
expenses. It may be necessary to treat of these later, but for the pres¬ 
ent suffice it to say that in the price of goods as sold by retail the 
margin of unnecessary cost ranges from 3d. to lOd. in the shilling, and 
taking an average of one thing with another it may be safely stated 
that one-lialf of the price paid is rendered necessary simply through 
the foolish and inconvenient manner in which the business is carried 
on. 

Ancl then he goes on to show that whereas the soap manu¬ 
facturers are all for competition in the sale of the soap, 
they will have no competition in the making of soap. As 
thus:— 

Outside his works competition appears quite natural, but inside he 
will have no divided effort. If you were to suggest that he would 
supply himself better and more cheaply with boxes by having three 
joiners’ shops working independently of each other and under sepa¬ 
rate management, he would tell you that you were an ass, John, and 
would not be far wrong. 

Mr. C. Hart, in a pamphlet, one of the best I have seen, 
called “Constitutional Socialism,” goes into the same 
question. lie says :— 

(a.) A and B are two builders, living ten miles apart. A gets a job 
close to B’s house, and B a job close to A’s house. All the transport 
of their ladders and planks is useless work,which, together with that of 
other builders, necessitates the construction of many useless carts. 
This reasoning applies to most merchants, canvassers, and shop¬ 
keepers (not all of them) who cross each other in every town, and 
from one town and country to another, uselessly. How many useless 
ships we have to build on this account! 

(b) A country requires industrial and agricultural produce, inland 
and foreign. Instead of consulting the statistics of consumption, and 
of writing a few letters to ask for the required number of tons, which 


140 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


would be sent to a central depot for distribution to the shops, wo 
have thousands of merchants and brokers who each order many 
separate parcels large and small, a small parcel requiring as much 
correspondence, book-keeping, and drafts as a large one. Now, as 
we could, under Socialism, order a hundred big parcels at once, and 
thus issue one big draft instead of a thousand small ones, and do a 
hundred times less correspondence and book-keeping than these 
merchants, it follows that nearly all their work is useless, as well as 
that of their countless dependents, direct and indirect, viz., those 
who do the useless correspondence and book-keeping, who build the 
useless offices, who manufacture the useless office furniture and 
stationery, who construct and drive the useless carts for this furniture 
and for all these small parcels, who build the useless banks for those 
small drafts, who do more useless book-keeping there, who carry the 
useless business letters through the post, who act as useless porters, 
etc., etc. Socialism does not wish to abolish all these middlemen, but 
only the useless ones. 

Frank Fairman, in his “Socialism made Plain,”says:—■ 

The immense extension of the telegraph system since it lias been 
managed by the State, and no longer dependent upon the expectation 
of immediate profit to capitalists is only an instance of what might be 
done with regard to telephones, the electric light, railway communica¬ 
tion, and many other things; for some of which the public, under the 
existing system, are called upon to pay, in the shape of interest on 
capital absolutely wasted in jobbery, promotion money, Parliamentary 
conflicts, and what is called insurance against risk of loss, as much as 
it would have cost to do the entire work themselves. 

Nor are this increase of cost and waste of labor the 
only evils of the competitive system. There is also the 
enormous amount of profit made by the private firms to 
be considered. 

This profit comes out of the pockets of the workers and 
goes into the pockets of the idlers. And by the idlers it 
is wasted, as I will show you in a future chapter. 

But there is another very serious evil due to competi¬ 
tion. Please to read the following extract from Mr. 
IT. M. Hyndman’s pamphlet, “Socialism and Slavery ” 

To take a single but very important instance of the way in which our 
present system works ruin all round. Industrial crises occur more 


ME Li HIE ENGLAND. 


141 


and more frequently in each successive generation. The increasing 
powers of machinery, the greater facility of transport and communica¬ 
tion, do but serve to make matters worse for the mass of the workers 
in all countries, insomuch that the uncertainty of employment is 
greatly increased by these recurring crises, apart from the danger of 
the workers being driven out on to the streets by the introduction of 
new labor-saving machines. But these crises arise from the very 
nature of our capitalist system of production. Thus, when a period 
of depression comes to an end, orders flow in from home and foreign 
customer’s; each manufacturer is anxious to take advantage of the 
rising tide of prosperity, and produces as much as he can, without 
any consultation with his fellows or any regard for the future: there 
is a great demand for laborers in the factories, workshops, shipyards, 
and mines ; prices rise all along the line, speculation is rampant; new 
machines are introduced to economize labor and increase production. 
All the work is being done by the most thorough social organization 
and for manifestly social purposes; the workers are, as it were, 
dovetailed into one another by that social and mechanical division of 
labor, as well as by the increasing scale of factory industry. But 
they have no control whatever over their products when finished. 
The exchange is carried on solely for the profit of the employing class, 
who themselves are compelled to compete against one another at high 
pressure in order to keep their places. Thus a glut follows, and then 
a depression of trade, when millions of men are out of work all over 
the world, though ready to give their useful labor in return for food; 
and the capitalists are unable to employ them because the glut 
which they themselves have created prevents production at a profit. 

Competition, it thus appears, raises the price of com¬ 
modities, lowers the rate of wages, and throws vast 
numbers of men out of work. 

Another evil of the competitive system is the milking 
of new ideas by the capitalist. Under competition a new 
invention is a “ trade secret,” and is worked for the benefit 
of one firm. 

Browii gets hold of a new method of cutting screws 
which enables him to dispense with half the labor, lie 
conceals this from Jones and Robinson and uses it to 
undersell them. Let us trace the action of such an inven¬ 
tion under competition and under Socialism. 

Suppose that labor equals 50 per cent, of the cost of 


142 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


making the screws, and that the new process saves half the 
labor. That gives Brown a profit of 25 per cent, more 
than Jones and Robinson. Now, Brown first of all dis¬ 
charges half his men, and then lowers the price of his 
screws 10 per cent. The results of these operations 
are:— 

1*. The public get their screws 10 per cent, 
cheaper. 

2. Brown makes 15 per cent, more profit. 

3. Jones and Robinson lose their trade. 

4. Half of Brown’s men are out of employment. 

5. If Brown can ruin Jones and Robinson and 
take all their trade, then he will throw half of their 
men out of employment, and may even raise the 
price of screws again, and so take all the advantage 
of the invention. 

And very likely Brown has bought this invention from 
some poor man for a couple of hundred dollars. 

Nor does the evil end here. I have it on good authority 
that in some trades the capitalists have a fund for the 
purpose of ruining inventors. This is done by a system 
of lawsuits and appeals which make it impossible for a 
man to work his invention unless he has a great deal of 
money. This kind of villainy is protected by the libel 
laws. I will therefore leave you to find out the facts for 
yourself. 

But now consider the result of our new screw-cutting 
process under Socialism. 

A workman invents a new process. He is rewarded by 
a medal and the naming of the process after its inventor, 
and the invention becomes the property of the State. 

What are the effects ? Screws can be made 25 per cent, 
more cheaply. Who gets the advantage of that? 

The people get> the advantage of it. You may 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


143 


1. Reduce the hours of labor in the screw trade 
by one half, or 

2. Send half the screw-cutters to some other work, 
as farming. 

But in either case the people will reap the benefit. For 
either hours of work will be shorter, or more wealth will 
be poured into the common store as a consequence of every 
new invention. 

Doubtless some of your political, hard-headed, practical 
friends will affect to be shocked at the idea that the in¬ 
ventor of our new process gets “ no more substantial 
reward ” then a medal and a name. But remember one 
or two things. 

1. The inventor has, already, as much of all sub¬ 
stantial things as he requires. 

2. That he could not spend money if he got it. 

3. That he is under no obligation to think of the 
future, as he and his wife and children are sure of 
the care of the State. 

Besides, you may remind your practical friends that the 
heroes of the life-boats, the hospitals, the coal mines, and 
the battle-field seldom get so much as a medal or a name. 

The heroes who defended Rorke’s Drift were rewarded 
by a grant to each man of a pair of trousers; the heroes 
of the glorious charge at Balaclava have many of them 
died in the workhouse. 

One other instance of the bad effects of competition, 
and I have done with the subject. 

On the 17th of June, 1893, the Clarion quoted from 
The New Nation the following paragraph :— 

“ As soon as I get up a good thing, say in chocolate,” says a merchant, 
“ some rival will imitate it in quality and sell it at a lower rate. To hold 
my own I’ve to cut his price; but as I can’t do that and make a profit I must 
adulterate the article a little. He knows the dodge, and he will do the 
same thing. So we go, cutting at each other, until both of our articles are 


144 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


so cheap and poor that nobody will buy them. Then I start the pure goods 
again under another name, and the whole circus has to bo gone over 
again.” 

Every man who knows anything of trade knows how 
general is the knavish practice of adulteration. As a 
Lancashire man you will need no lecture on the evils of 
calico-sizing. Now, all adulteration is directly due to 
competition. Do you doubt it ? Allow me to prove my 
statement by quoting from a speech by John Bright. 
John Bright was a great apostle of grad-grindery. He 
was a champion of competition, an opponent of the 
Factory Acts and trade unionism; and in the speech to 
which I allude he intended to excuse adulteration, and he 
said:— 


Adulteration is only another form of competition. 

Could anything be clearer ? Could any irony, or any 
argument, or any invective of a Socialist, wound competi¬ 
tion so deeply as does this maladroit chance-blow of its 
champion, John Bright ? 

I notice, Mr. Smith, that there is a statue of John 
Bright in the Town Hall Square of Manchester. That 
statue is well placed. John Bright was the natural hero 
of the cotton age. In our Merrie England we shall most 
likely prefer to put up memorials to men like John Ruskin 
and Thomas Carlyle. 


ME HE IE ENGLAND. 


145 


i 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST. 

After a momentary silence spake 

Some vessel of a more ungainly make; 

They sneer at me for leaning all awry: 

What! did the hand then of the Potter shake? 

Omar Khayyam. 

One of the favorite arguments of the Gradgrinds in 
support of competition is the theory of the Survival of 
the Fittest. 

They say that those who fail, fail because they are not 
fitted to succeed. They say that those who succeed, 
succeed because they are “ fit.” They say it is the law of 
nature that the weakest shall go to the wall, and to the wall 
with them—and no quarter. 

The slumites live in the slums because they are unfit to 
live anywhere else. The Duke of Marlborough lived in a 
palace because the intellectual and moral superiority of 
such a man naturally forced him into a palace. 

Burns was a ploughman ; Bunyan was a tinker; Lord 
Chesterfield was a peer. The composer of the popular 
waltz, “ The Masher’s Dream,” makes ten thousand a year, 
and lives in a mansion. Richard Jefferies and James 
Thomson died poor and neglected. 

Jay Gould had boundless wealth and tremendous power. 
Walt Whitman had a modest competence, and no power 
at all. Or, as the most vivid example I can give you of the 
great law of the survival of the fittest, let me remind you 

io 


146 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


that Brigham Young was a prophet and a ruler, wealthy 
and honored; and that Christ lived a mendicant preacher, 
and died the death of a felon. 

And all these things are justified by the glorious law 
that the fittest shall survive. 

But let me give you my own explanation of the law as 
to the survival of the fittest. Of two plants or animals, 
that one will survive which is fittest to endure the 
conditions in which both exist. The question of which 
man shall survive depends upon the conditions under 
which the men shall struggle for survival. . 

According to the law of nature the man who is best 
suited by the conditions of the country and the society he 
lives in will be best fitted to succeed. 

In a nation of marauders, then, who live by spoliation 
and the sword, the fittest to survive would be a different 
type of man from him who gets first place in a nation of 
traders, where fierceness and strength of arm are less 
called for than tenacity and clearness of head. 

It thus appears that when we say our poor are poor 
because they are not fitted to gain wealth, we mean that 
they are not “ fit ” to gain wealth under the conditions 
of life now existing. But under different conditions of 
life they might succeed. 

If, then, the present conditions of life are right, the poor 
are wrong; but if the present conditions of life are not 
right, the poor are wronged '. 

Therefore, it seems that this theory of the Survival of 
the Fittest is no answer to our indictment against Society. 
It proves nothing except that if the poor are unworthy 
they are unworthy. The question are they unworthy, or 
is it the arrangement of Society that is unworthy, has 
still to be answered. 

One condition of Society enables one kind of man to 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


147 


succeed. Another condition of Society enables another 
kind of man to succeed. Now would you say that was 
the best condition of society that gave to the lowest type 
of humanity the pre-eminence? Or would you say that 
was the best condition of society that gave the highest 
type of humanity the pre-eminence ? 

Granting that the noblest is really the most proper to 
survive, is it not desirable that the conditions of society 
should be so moulded and arranged that noble qualities 
shall have full play and base qualities be kept in check ? 
I think that is clear enough, and I now ask you to consider 
whether society, as it is at present constituted, enables the 
law of the Survival of the Fittest to work for evil or for 
good. 

For hundreds of ages we have been imprisoning, murder¬ 
ing, prosecuting, and starving our Brunos, our Pauls, our 
Socrates, our Raleighs, our Joans of Arc, and have heaped 
rewards and honors on our Alexanders, our Bonapartes, 
our Jay Goulds, our Rothschilds. Are we to go on for¬ 
ever in the workship of usury and slaughter and intrigue ? 
Are we still to make the basest the fittest to survive ? To 
bless power above benevolence? Shall we never have 
done admiring and obeying our Brigham Youngs, nor 
crucifying our Christs, nor scorning those who follow Him, 
and such as He ? 

No sensible man would attempt to oppose a law of 
nature. All natural laws are right. JVo natural law can 
be resisted. But before we give to any law implicit obedi¬ 
ence we shall be wise to examine its credentials. Natural 
laws we must obey. But don’t let us mistake the hasty 
deductions of erring men for the unchanging and trium¬ 
phant laws of Nature. Let us begin, in this case, by ask¬ 
ing whether the law of prey, which seems to be a natural 
and inevitable statute among the brutes, has any right of 


148 


MEBB IE ENGLAND. 


jurisdiction in the courts of humanity. Is there any dif¬ 
ference between man and the brutes ? If there is a dif¬ 
ference, in what does it consist ? 

We need not get into a subtle investigation on this 
matter. It is sufficient to use common terms, and say 
that man has intellect; animals only instinct. Consider 
the consequences of this difference. We have spoken 
and written language, which beasts have not. We have 
imagination, which beasts have not. We have memory, 
history, sciences, religions, which beasts have not. And 
we have intellectual progress, which beasts have not. I 
might go a great deal deeper into this matter, but I want 
to keep to plain speech and simple issues. Man has 
reason; beasts have not. 

Now reason is a natural thing in man. Nature gave 
him reason, because reason is necessary to the working 
out of his development, and I mean to say that by reason 
we are to be guided, and not by the law of prey, which is 
a natural check and balance put upon unreasoning creat¬ 
ures. By how much a man’s reason excels a brute’s 
instincts is the man better than the brute. By how much 
one man’s reason excels that of his fellows is he better 
than they. By how much any policy of human affairs is 
more reasonable than another policy is it best fitted to 
survive. 

It seems, then, that the law of the Survival of the Fit¬ 
test does apply to mankind; but it works with them in a 
manner different to that in which it works with the brutes. 
Well, I say that our Gradgrinds apply a natural law in 
an unnatural manner. That they would rule mankind by 
brutal methods. 

Before we go any further with this theory of the Sur¬ 
vival of the Fittest, let me ask you one question. Will 
you tell me, Mr. Smith, who are the fittest to survive ? A 


ME B It IE ENGLAND, 


149 


great deal depends upon our answer to that question. All 
wealth is got by plunder. It' instead of making laws to 
stop the depredations of the sweater we repealed the laws 
for the repression of the garrotter, we should soon fall 
into anarchy—that is, into a state of savagery, such as is 
understood by the word anarchy. The race to the swift. 
The battle to the strong. The weak to the wall. The 
vanquished to the sword. A perfect realization of the 
Survival of the Fittest. Then the man with the most 
strength and ferocity would take by force of arms the 
goods of the weak and timid—and their lives. Which all 
of us would call sheer plunder. But commercialism is 
just a war of wits—a gambling or fighting with weapons 
of parchment and the like, and really plunder by force of 
cunning instead of by force of arms. And both these forms 
of plunder are forms in which the baser intellect and the 
more brutal physique will always be successful. In per¬ 
sonal conflict, Socrates would be no match for J. L. 
Sullivan ; in commerce, Jesus Christ would be exploited 
by Jay Gould—as he was , in fact, by Judas. 

For the Gradgrinds to invoke the laws of Nature is 
odd. Our “ Survival-of-the-Fittest ” men declare their 
dependence on the laws of Nature, and when any one sug¬ 
gests a change in English laws and customs for the sake 
of the poor and heavy-laden, these barbarian ranters an¬ 
swer, “Oh, no. You must not meddle with the laws of 
Nature. Nature’s processes are inevitable, and cannot be 
altered by acts of Parliament.” But we have laws, and 
these wiseacres would keep those laws. If we suggested 
that no laws should be, they would call us anarchists. 
But what shall we call them who cry out that natural 
law is the only law, and yet insist upon the necessity for 
human laws as well ? 

Is there any natural obstacle to the establishment of 


150 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


a community on just terms ? Is there any known law of 
nature that denies bread to the industrious and forces 
wealth upon the idle ? If a natural law makes waste and 
want imperative, what is that law ? Tell me, that I may 
know it? Natural law as far as I do know it is against 
this unjust distribution. Natural law punishes gluttony, 
and as ruthlessly punishes privation. Nature racks the 
gourmand and the sluggard with gout, or disfigures him 
with dropsy, and the starveling and the unresting drudge 
she visits with consumption and with pestilence. She 
strikes the miser with a Midas curse—turning his bowels 
to gold, and she brands the drunkard, the libertine, 
and the brawler with the mark of the beast. Nature 
everywhere ordains temperance. How, then, can wealth 
or indulgences be justified in her name. How can we 
say that the millions of poor slain by unnatural condi¬ 
tions of life are the victims of nature’s laws ? 

To whose interest is it that the poor should suffer ? 
Do their sorrow and travail confer an atom of benefit on 
any of God’s creatures? Injustice is a thing accursed. 
It does not, never did, and never will confer a benefit on 
any man. The man who does an injustice suffers for it 
in his moral nature. He gains nothing, though he makes 
wealth. For no man can use more than he needs, and 
Justice would give all men that. The men to whom an 
injustice is done suffer, and be they many or few, Society 
suffers because of their suffering. 

The Survival of the Fittest is a question of conditions. 
It can have no great power to-day. The Survival of the 
Fittest is another name for Anarchy, Our Society is one 
bound by law. The unfettered “ right of individual en¬ 
terprise ” is anarchy. And it is bad. It is bad because 
in a state of social warfare, warfare to extermination 
point, the basest and the vilest have the advantage, for 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 151 

the vile man and the base will fight with less ruth and 
fewer scruples 

So much for the survival of the fittest. So much for 
Laissez Faire. The man who accepts the Laissez Faire 
doctrine would allow his garden to run wild, so that the 
roses might fight it out with the weeds and the fittest 
might survive. 


152 


ME1UUE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

SOCIALISM AND PROGRESS. 


Your present system of education is to get a rascal of an architect to 
order a rascal of a clerk-of-the-works to order a parcel of rascally brick¬ 
layers to build you a bestially stupid building in the middle of the town, 
poisoned with gas, and with an iron floor which will drop you all through 
it some frosty evening; wherein you will bring a puppet of a cockney 
lecturer in a dress coat and a white tie, to tell you smugly there’s no God, 
and how many messes he can make of a lump of sugar.— Ruskin. 

Another stock argument against Socialism is the as¬ 
sertion that it would destroy all intellectual progress. 
Here is a quotation from an article by the late Charles 
Bradlaugh:— 

I object to Socialism because it would destroy the incentives which have 
produced, amongst other things, the “ clever ” men who serve society in 
various fashions, as doctors, engineers, architects, and teachers. I am in¬ 
clined to doubt whether, if the enormous army of Socialist officials were 
rewarded at the like rate with the scavenger and*the ploughman, the temp¬ 
tation on them might not be very great to help themselves to extra recom¬ 
pense from the national stores. 

The first sentence in this passage displays a singular 
misconception of human nature; the second a grotesque 
misconception of Socialism. 

We will dispose of the second sentence first. You will 
observe that Mr. Bradlaugh spoke of “ the enormous army 
of Socialist officials.” He seems to have supposed, as so 
many suppose, that under Socialism we should be over¬ 
run with officials. You will find the same comical blun¬ 
der in Richter’s book. 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


153 


No>w the fact is that under Socialism there would be 
as f( ;w officials, and as many workers, as possible. I 
don* i think you will find the officials in the Post Office 
more numerous than in any ordinary business house. 
Bid the surprising part of it is that a really shrewd man 
like Mr. Bradlaugh should have failed to notice the enor¬ 
mous number of officials, the useless officials, too, who 
burden every department of trade under competition. 

For what are all the clerks, travellers, agents, canvassers, 
salesmen, managers, capitalists, and other costly and need¬ 
less people but an “enormous army ” of officials? Just 
glance back at the chapter on Competition, and then con¬ 
sider whether Socialism, however badly managed, could 
possibly add to the number of overpaid and unnecessary 
noi ^producers. 

Then Mr. Bradlaugh was terribly shocked by the idea 
that a doctor should be paid at the same rate as a scaven¬ 
ger. This is chiefly due to two misconceptions of Mr. 
Bradlaugh’s. First of all, he had been so used to the rec¬ 
ognized money standard of honor that he didn’t seem 
able to realize that a man might, under Socialism, be hon¬ 
ored more for what he was, or for what he did, than for 
what he got. Secondly, he was so used to seeing such 
men as scavengers overworked, underpaid, and generally 
despised that it did not occur to him as possible that un¬ 
der Socialism every worker would be treated justly and 
respected as a man. But turn the idea the other way 
round, and you can reply to Mr. Bradlaugh’s objection 
that it will be a decidedly good society for the average 
man where the scavenger or ploughman is as well paid 
as the doctor or the engineer. However, I shall have 
more to say about our friend the scavenger in a future 
chapter. 

Another amusing blunder of Mr. Bradlaugh’s is the 




154 


MERBIE ENGLAND. 


idea that if an official got no more pay than a scavenger 
he would turn thief and rob the public stores. 

That seems to imply that the “ clever ” men, the men 
who Mr. Bradlaugh evidently regarded as the salt of t,he 
earth, are not, in his opinion, very honest. If an under¬ 
paid clerk in these times, robs his employer he is sent to 
prison—as a rogue. We hear nothing about the in just ce 
of society or the folly of competition in paying him no 
more than a scavenger. 

But, observe, once more, that it could only be under 
Ideal Socialism that the official and the scavenger woi ild 
be equally paid. Therefore, there would be nothing for 
the official to steal but food or clothing, and as every man 
would have as much of those as he needed for the askiiug, 
I don’t see what an official would gain by stealing more. 

No. The error arises, once more, from a misconception 
of Socialism. The fact is our critics will keep supposin g 
that under Socialism the workers would be as badly 
treated and as badly rewarded as they are now. 

Let us turn, then, to Mr. Bradlaugh’s first sentence. 
Socialism, he says, “ would destroy the incentives whic h 
f have produced the clever men who serve society.” Thi s 
Vis the old story about the incentive of gain. It come s 
? very curiously from the mouth of Mr. Bradlaugh. Very 
curiously indeed. 

Mr. Bradlaugh was a clever man, and he had worked 
very hard. Was gain his incentive? No one who know 3 
any thing of his life will suppose so for a moment. It is :a 
marvellous thing. Here we had a man who had fought ;i 
bitter, a terrible, and uphill battle all his life long fo r 
j principle , a man who was faithful unto death, and who 
died poor and embarrassed, and we find him objecting to 
Socialism because it would remove the incentive of gain. 

But there is the statement, and it is a common one,. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


155 


Mr. Morley repeats it. Mr. Morley is convinced that if 
existence were no longer a sordid struggle for money the 
genius of the people would die out, and we should sink 
into barbarism, and retain nothing but the bare neces¬ 
saries of life. 

Well, this is what I call comic. Mr. Morley seems 
satisfied with things as they are. What do his words 
assume? They assume :— 

1. That the greatest and noblest of the race are 
actuated by avarice. Which is not true. 

2. That the greatest and noblest of the race secure 
the most iceatlh. Which is not true. 

3. That the people are at present in the enjoyment 
of more than the necessaries of life. Which is 
not true. 

4. That the people are at present in the enjoyment 
of civilization and refinement. Which is not true. 

5. That Socialism would discourage genius and 
patriotism. Which is not true. 

6 . That Socialism would encourage idleness. 
Whichis not true. 

I will take these six errors in their order, and refute 
them. 

The first is the assertion that if a clever man were not 
paid higher icages than a manual laborer, he would refuse 
to devote his talents to the service of society. 

Now, John, out of their own mouths shall these men be 
condemned. 

Have you ever read any of the speeches and articles on 
the Payment of Members of Parliament? You have. 
What is the stock argument used against the payment of 
members ? 

It is the argument that to pay members would be to 
lower the tone and impair the quality of the House of 


156 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Commons. It is the argument that men of talent will serve 
the nation better for honor than for money ! 

I think that here I have them on the hip. This argu¬ 
ment is used by the same men who tell us that Socialism 
would degrade the nation by abolishing the incentive of 
gain. 

With how little wisdom is the world governed. What 
do you think of the morality, what do you think of the 
intelligence, what do you think of the knowledge of these 
“practical statesmen,” these men you cheer and vote 
for ? 

They tell you one day that unless you pay clever men 
big wages, they will cease to work. 

They tell you another day that if you pay clever men 
at all, they will cease to work. 

They declare first of all that it is only the lust after 
money that makes men great. 

They declare next that money is such a vile thing that 
if you pay members of Parliament you will ruin the 
country, because only greedy adventurers will work for 
money. 

Is the swinish lust for wealth the one motive power of 
all clever men, except our members of Parliament? 

What think you is the chief food of genius ? Does the 
prospect of wealth inspire Hamlets or Laocoons, and 
steam-engines, and printing-presses ? The true artist, 
the man to whom all creative w T ork is due, is mainly 
inspired, sustained, and rewarded by a love of his art. 
Milton wrote “ Paradise Lost ” for $40. Can greed produce 
a poem like it ? Many improvements in machinery are 
made by workmen. Often they get no profit. Sometimes 
the master patents the improvement, pays the drudge a 
few shillings* a week for his ideas, and makes thousands. 
Shall we measure men’s brains like corn, or gauge the 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


157 


pressure and the power of fiery passions and quenchless 
faiths by the horse-power. All the forces of all the kings 
of the earth cannot make one brave man turn on his heel; 
all the wealth of the nations cannot buy one pure soul; 
all the fools in a big city cannot conquer one strong brain; 
all the drilled and crammed dunces that political economy 
and hide-bound school systems can band together cannot 
advance the cause of knowledge or liberty one inch. 

Was it greed made Socrates expound philosophy, or 
Shakespeare write plays? Was it competition made 
Watt invent the steam-engine, or Davy the safety-lamp? 
Was it greed that abolished slavery? Was it greed 
made Darwin devote his life to science? Was it greed 
that unfolded the secrets of astronomy, of geology, and 
of other important facts of nature ? Or did greed give 
us musical notation, the printing press, the pictures of 
Turner and Raphael, the poems of Spenser, and the liber¬ 
ties of the English Constitution ? 

The true artist: He to whom all creative work is due 
is mainly inspired, sustained, and rewarded by a love of 
his art. He will take money, for he must live. He will 
take money, for money is the badge of victory. But with 
or without money, and with or without praise, he will 
worship the beloved mistress, art. He calls his wealthy 
patrons Philistines, and in his soul despises them. 

This paltry plea about pay! Yet, even if we admit 
that “ pay ” is the one prize and the one incentive of lift 1 , 
it would seem as though the men of “ ability ” are not the 
men who get the most of it. It may seem a sad thing 
that Darwin should get no more “ pay ” than the “ clod ” 
who breaks stones. But there are “clods” who break 
backs and hearts instead of stones, who get paid more 
than the men of ability in question. For instance, Jay 
Gould the “ financier ” got more “ pay ” and held more 


158 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


wealth than Gladstone, and Carlyle, and Darwin, and 
Koch, and Galileo, and Columbus, and Cromwell, and 
Caxton, and Stephenson, and Washington, and Raphael, 
and Mozart, and Shakespeare, and Socrates, and Jesus 
Christ ever got amongst them. So perfect is the present 
system of “pay.” 

Are the best men of to-day the best paid ? Are the 
most useful men the best paid ? Are the most industrious 
men, the wealthiest ? Do the noblest and the cleverest 
men work for gain? Do they get rich? Do the great 
mass of the laboring classes work for gain ? Do they get 
rich? Did the love of gain ever make a hero or a 
martyr? Did it ever win a battle? Will a man do most 
for loveor for money, for honor or for money, for duty or 
for money ? Having no money, does a genius become a 
fool? Having much money does a fool become a genius? 
Did any nation, loving money, ever become great; or, 
gaining riches and luxury, ever remain great? It has 
been written that:— 

Romans in Rome’s quarrel 
Spared neither land nor gold, 

Nor child, nor. wife, nor limb, nor life, 

In the good days of old. 

But it has never been written nor said nor known of 
any but the vilest and meanest savages that they would 
sell their country or their wives or their children or their 
faiths for money. 

Is there any community as united and as effective as a 
family ? The family is the soundest, the strongest, and 
the happiest kind of society, and next to that is the tribe 
of families. And why ? Because all the relations of 
family life are carried on in direct opposition to the prin¬ 
ciples of political economy and the survival of the fittest. 
A family is bound by ties of love and mutual helpfulness. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


159 


The weakly child is not destroyed ; it is cherished with 

extremest tenderness and care. The rule is vested in the 

% 

parents, and not knocked down to the highest bidder. 
The brothers do not undersell each other. The women 
are better treated than the men, not worse, as in the fac¬ 
tories, and each member of the family receives an equal 
share of the common wealth. 

But let us return to th<i article of Mr. Bradlaugh. 
Here is another statement:— 

To me, I avow, it does seem that Sir James Paget or the editor of a news¬ 
paper is more valuable than the street-sweeper, that the effort necessary 
to become a clever doctor or successful journalist is greater than that 
necessary for an average stone-breaker. Sir Charles Russell, Mr. Burne- 
Jones, or Mr. Wm. Black may, it appears to me, have each been re¬ 
quired to devote years of preliminary study and ardent application which 
are not required from the omnibus conductor or letter-carrier. 

Here is the same idea, that services and labor can be 
recompensed by “ pay.” The same idea that because one 
man can do more or better than another he should have 
more money; the same unaccountable inability to see 
that all the money the earth contains can never buy a 
man more than the necessaries of life, for a man has but 
one body to clothe, but one stomach to feed, but one head 
to rest upon a pillow. 

Now, if every man had enough, would it not be a pitiful 
spectacle to see the salt of the earth—the men of knowl¬ 
edge and ability—whining for more ? 

Why should a clever man want more than an average 
worker ? If the workman’s pay is enough for his wants— 
and that “ought” to be—why should an artist have 
more? The workman having enough, should the artist 
have more than enough? He does not need it. He can¬ 
not use it. He is already more blessed than the workman, 
for his talent is a boundless source of pleasure to him, 
and his work is a gratification and not a task. A really 


160 


ME ERIE ENGLAND. 


great-souled man would spurn such a guerdon for his 
victory. In a healthy state of human feeling, to offer a 
hero money and vain titles 'would affront him as surely 
as offering a man a sugar-stick to eat or a baby’s rattle 
to play with. Virtue is its own reward. The artist’s 
reward is his success; his honor is his works. The true 
hero asks for service, not for pay. “IchDien”is the 
real Prince’s motto all the world over. I’ll have to look 
up a list of biographies, so that Smith and Co. may know 
what a hero is. They are rather scarce now. And it is 
curious that at a time when the demand for a hero is 
very pressing, the supply has failed. That now, when 
heroes could have more gold and more promotion than 
were ever showered on them before, they do seem strangely 
loth to show themselves. I cannot explain this, unless by 
supposing that heroes are not ruled by the law of supply 
and demand, and do not much covet riches or places in 
the House of Peers. 

But let us take some homely illustrations of my con¬ 
tention that merit does not depend upon pay. 

You know something about cricket. Take the Notts 
team. You will find that all the professionals are paid 
at the same rate. But you will not find them all equally 
good. Shrewsbury is the best bat in the team. lie gets 
no mor q pay than a less expert man. But does that fact 
prevent any one of us from recognizing his superior 
power? Do you not see that it is the same in all profes¬ 
sions? I daresay Mr. Sims makes more money than 
Shakespeare would make now. But we never make a 
mistake as to which of the two stands at the head of his 
art. John L. Sullivan, the boxer, got, I am told, $2,500 a 
week for acting. But even if that be more than Mr. 
Irving would get, it does not follow that any man can 
believe Sullivan to be the better actor. 


AERR IE ENGLAND. 


161 


Homely illustration No. 2 : That a man will do his best 
even when he gets no more pay than another of his trade 
less clever than himself. Here again we take Shrewsbury 
as an example. Put him into the Players’ eleven. He 
will get no more money than any other batsman. Yet he 
is the best batsman. But will he, therefore, not try to 
score? Ask him. Nee him. Yes; 1 know what you will 
say. If he does not do his best he will be thrown out, 
and then he will get no money. But Mr. Stoddard tries 
as hard as Shrewsbury, and he gets no money. And you 
will find in the Gentlemen and Players’ matches that the 
Gentlemen are as keen and as anxious to win as are the 
Players. And you will always find that the man who 
• works or fights for love, or honor, or duty, or fame, will 
work harder and fight more fiercely and bravely than the 
man who fights for pay. Because the former has his 
heart in the work and the latter has not. 

And notice another very curious thing about Mr. Brad- 
laugh’s paragraph. 

He tells us that Sir Charles Russell and Mr. William 
Black have been required to devote years of preliminary 
study to their trades. He suggests, therefore, that now 
they shall be paid extra wages. Why? 

Is not all wealth created by labor ? How did Messrs. 
Black and Russell live during their period of education ? 
Who kept them ? 

They were kept by the workers, and are, therefore, in 
debt to the workers, and not the workers to them. But 
of this more anon. 

We may now go back to Mr. Morley. Of his six errors, 
I have answered three. We will take Nos. 3 and 4 to¬ 
gether. They imply that the people are at present in the 
enjoyment of the necessaries of life. 

What about the unemployed ? What about pauperism ? 


162 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


What about sweating ? What about the payment of un¬ 
skilled labor? What about female labor ? What about 
the railway workers, the canal workers, the chemical 
workers, the costermongers, the dockers, the chain and 
nail makers, the agricultural laborers ? What about the 
slums? Does Mr. Morley ever read any Blue Books? 
Does he know anything about the condition of this coun¬ 
try ? If he does, he makes very bad use of the knowledge. 
Talk about a barbarous society in which men should have 
but the necessaries of life. Just cast your eye over this 
brief extract from Dr. Russell’s pamphlet on life in one 
room: 

Of the inhabitants of Glasgow, 25 per cent, lire in houses of one 
apartment. ... No less than 14 per cent, of the one-roomed houses, 
aud 27 per cent, of the two-roomed houses, contain lodgers—strange men 
and women, mixed up with husbands, and wives, and children, within the 
four walls of small rooms. . . . There are thousands of these houses 
which contain five, six, and seven inmates, and hundreds which are in¬ 
habited by from eight to thirteen. Of all the children who die in Glasgow 
before they complete their fifth year, 32 per cent., die in houses of one 
apartment, and not 2 per cent, in houses of five apartments and upwards 
. . . . From beginning to rapid ending, the lives of these children are 

short parts in a wretched tragedy. ... I can only venture to lift a 
corner of the curtain which veils the life which is lived in these houses. 
It is impossible to show you more. 

That is official testimony, and Mr. Morley talks about 
“ necessaries ” of life. Do you count fresh air, health, 
decency, and cleanliness as necessaries ? If you do, what 
say you to the barbarism of Glasgow, of Liverpool, of 
London, and of Manchester? Come, will you tell me how 
Socialism is going to ruin Ancoats, or lower the moral 
standard of Whitechapel, or debase the ideal of Black 
Country life ? It will be time enough for our statesmen 
to despise the “ necessaries of life ” when they have made 
it possible for the people to get them. 

Error No. 6, that Socialism would encourage laziness, I 
shall deal with in a future chapter. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


163 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

SOCIALISM AND SLAVERY. 

Then let us be thankful to Jules 
And Bil for the way they belia\$d, 

For though wages be small 
There’s employment for all, 

And “the freedom of contract” is saved. 

Thus free competition remains, 

A blessing to England and France; 

And the Communist schemes 
Are rejected as dreams, 

So that every rogue has a chance. 

— The Clarion. 

The common misconceptions of Socialism are most per¬ 
verse and foolish. Mr. Herbert Spencer wrote an article 
called “ The Coming Slavery.” I think he is responsible 
for the much-quoted opinion that Socialism would result 
in a more odious form of slavery than any the world has 
yet known. 

Clearly there are two things which Mr. Herbert Spen¬ 
cer, like most of our critics, has failed to understand. 
One of these things is Socialism; the other is the condi¬ 
tion of existing society. 

I deny that Socialism would result in any form of 
slavery at all; and I assert that a most odious form of 
slavery exists at present in this so-called free country. 
Let us see. 

First as to Socialism. Mr. Spencer’s idea appears to be 
that under Socialism the State would compel men to work 


164 


ME ERIE ENGLAND. 


against their will, or to work at occupations uncongenial 
to them. 

This is a mistake. The State would not compel any 
man to work. It would only enable all men to work, and 
to live in peace and comfort by their labor. 

If a man did not choose to work he would not be coerced. 
He could either do his fair share of the work of the com¬ 
munity in return for his fair share of the wealth, or he 
could decline to work. 

But if he declimal to work he would certainly have to 
starve, or to leave the State. 

Now I want to point out to you, before I go any further, 
that as things are at present some men live luxuriously 
and do no work, many men do a great deal of work and 
live wretchedly, and nearly three-quarters of a million of 
men who are willing to work can get no work to do. 

To hear people talk about slavery under Socialism, you 
would suppose we had freedom now. Robert Ingersoll 
says :— 

Some of the best and purest of our race have advocated what is known 
as Socialism. . . . Socialism seems to me to be one of the worst pos¬ 
sible forms of slavery. . . . Nothing would so utterly paralyze all the 

forces, all the splendid ambitions and aspirations that tend now to the 
civilization of man.Socialism destroys the family and sacri¬ 

fices the liberties of all. If the Government is to provide work it must de¬ 
cide for the worker what he must do, etc. Is it possible to conceive of a 
despotism beyond this ? The human race cannot afford to exchange its 
liberty for any possible comfort. 


The human race cannot afford to exchange its liberty 
for any possible comfort! But the human race has not 
got any liberty to exchange. The human race, at least 
the great majority, are slaves. 

But ask yourself, what liberty of choice is left to you. 

Suppose you are out of work, can you have work for 
the asking? No. But under Socialism you could always 



MERRIE ENGLAND. 


165 


have work. Is that a proof of slavery ? Suppose under 
Socialism you were told that you must work or starve! 
Would that be any more despotic treatment than the 
treatment you get now? Tell your present employers 
that you do not wish to work, and see what the alterna¬ 
tive will be. You must work or starve now. The differ¬ 
ence between present conditions and the conditions of 
Socialism, are that you now work long hours for a bare 
existence, whereas, in a Socialistic State you would work 
short hours for a life of honor and comfort. 

The Socialistic State would not compel any man to work; 
it would prevent him from living on the work of others. 
It would organize the industries, production and distribu¬ 
tion of the community, and would then say to the citizen : 
“If you would enjoy the benefits and share the wealth of 
this commonwealth you must also obey the laws and share 
the labor.” Surely that is just. But in no case can it be 
twisted to mean slavery, for the man who did not like the 
conditions could refuse them, just as he can now. 

But note that other statement of Mr. Ingersoll’s :— 

If the Government is to provide work it must decide for the worker 
what he must do. 

Must it ? Why ? 

At present the capitalist finds work, but he does not 
decide what we must do. He cannot decide, or he 
would. 

So when the State found work it would not decide what 
each man must do. 

You will ask me how a Socialist State would apportion 
the work. I ask you how the work is apportioned now. 

You have a son, say a lad of fourteen, and wish to put 
him to a trade. You ask him his choice He says he 
would like to be a cabinet-maker. You apply at the shops 
in your own town and you find that trade is bad, or that 


166 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


the allowed number of apprentices is made up. So you 
get the boy work as an engineer or a painter. 

That is to say, your boy can choose his trade subject to 
the demand for labor of certain kinds. If all the boys 
wanted to be engineers they could not all get work at 
that trade. 

These conditions would exist under Socialism. The 
State or the municipality would need a certain number of 
plumbers and a certain number of painters. If more boys 
asked to be painters than the State needed to do its paint¬ 
ing, some of those boys would have to take other work. 
Where does the slavery come in ? 

Robert Ingersoll is considered a very able man, and 
Herbert Spencer enjoys the reputation of being a great 
thinker. 

What have these famous men been doing with their 
eyes? IIow have they contrived to commit the egregious 
blunder of supposing that men have free choice of occupa¬ 
tion now? How many men do you know, John Smith, 
who are working at the trade of their choice or living 
where and how they please ? 

Let us return to your boy of fourteen. Suppose, instead 
of choosing to be a cabinet-maker, he said, “ I want to be 
a doctor!” You would laugh at him. Why? 

Because it is absurd for a weaver’s son to ask to be a 
doctor. Why ? 

Because it costs a lot of money to become a doctor. 
And, once more, why ? Because a doctor has a great deal 
to learn, and education is dear. 

So though your son wishes to be a doctor, though he 
might possess great talent for the work, he must go and 
be a candlestick-maker instead, for you are too poor to 
give him his choice. 

But under Socialism education would be free. It would 


ME BRIE ENGLAND. 


167 


be free to all. Therefore the competition for doctorships 
would be equal. It would not be what it is now—a close 
thing for the privileged classes. So your boy would have 
as good a chance as any other. 

“ Ah,” but you will say, “ under Socialism all the boys 
would want to be doctors and artists and writers.” Very 
likely. And at present all the boys want to be “ gentle¬ 
men,” but very few of them get their wish, and many of 
them have to be beggars or thieves. 

Under Socialism any boy who had the industry and 
talent might qualify himself to get a diploma. Of course, 
when he had got it, he might not get an appointment as 
one of the medical men for his town. 

But I understand that there are at present a good many 
doctors with no practice. 

There is no greater blunder possible than the blunder 
of supposing that in this country at the present time every 
man may follow the work of his choice. It is a ridiculous 
error. 

To read Mr. Bradlaugh, Mr. Ingersoll, and Mr. Spencer, 
you would think that things are so well ordered now that 
all kinds of work must fall to the men best fitted to do it. 

Writers and painters have to write and paint what they 
can sell; provided they can get a chance to write and 
paint at all. 

Take my own case. Here I am, after being forty-two 
years a free man, in a free country, obliged to confess 
that I have never yet succeeded in doing the kind of work 
I have wanted to do. 

Turn your eyes to trade. There are two carpet fac¬ 
tories in a town. Another man sets up in that trade. 
What happens ? He may be a good man and a clever 
man; and he may make better carpets than the other 
firms, but unless he is very rich they will ruin him by 


168 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


selling below cost price in order to retain the trade in 
their own hands. 

Or suppose there are two papers in a town and a rival 
paper is started. What will happen ? 

The new paper may be a much better paper than the 
old ones, but unless its proprietor is a rich man it cannot 
live. Why ? 

Because there is such a thing as a boycott. The pro¬ 
prietors of the established papers will send around to the 
news-agents and say, “ If you sell the Comet I will take 
away the agency for the Fog Horn” and “If you sell the 
Comet I shall get fresh agents for the Welsher 

Now suppose the agent is poor, as most agents are, and 
suppose he is selling both those papers and clearing ten 
dollars a week on the sale. Is it likely that he will risk 
the ten dollars for the sake of selling a good paper which 
may not pay him one shilling, or may not live a month? 

Do you call that agent a free agent? Do you mean to 
say that the would-be proprietor of the Comet is a free 
man, or that he can do what work he pleases? 

Under present conditions, rascality and money can 
always overreach honesty and brains. 

I am not talking fine-spun theory now, like that of 
Robert Ingersoll. I am telling you facts and arguing from 
experience. 

About a year ago I met the manager of a weekly London 
paper. He told me that he was trying to establish a cir¬ 
culation in the provinces, but that the local papers had 
boycotted him. And then he said, “ We are making some 
headway, and have got a small sale; but every copy of 
our paper we sell costs us a dollar to dispose of.” You 
will observe that the merit of the papers had nothing to 
do with the case. The London paper was certainly bet- 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 169 

ter than its local rivals. But the locals had blocked the 
agents and lowered their prices. 

Talk about slavery ! Freedom of contract! ■ Under 
your much-glorified freedom of contract, how many con¬ 
tracts are freely made? Under your vaunted liberty of 
the Individual, how many individuals have any liberty at 
all ? At this present day in this fine country the bulk of 
the people are slaves. They are slaves not to a wise, bene¬ 
ficent, and popular Government, but to a ring of greedy, 
grasping fools ; a coterie of rich barbarians—who would 
boil down the last nightingale if they thought his bones 
would serve to dye yarn; who would choke up the last 
well if they had no place handy in which to shoot their 
alkali dust, and would cover the last rood of sward with 
ashes, if they thought there was no hope of grinding the 
said ashes witli sewer slime to make mortar for the peo¬ 
ple’s houses. “ Can any one imagine a despotism more 
terrible ” than the regulation of work by Government ? 
I think so. I think I could find it. But I have no need 
to look. See ; it is here, ready to my hand. 

It is here, in a letter, long kept by me, a sample of many 
I constantly receive :— 

If you can see your way to give us poor devils of silk dyers a word or 
two I am sure it would do us good. We work longer hours than any 
others in the trade in England, get less wages, and, for our lives, or rather 
our situations, dare not openly belong to a union. If we strike—as we did 
last summer—pressure is brought upon us by our wives and children 
(nearly all of whom have to work) being dismissed from- their situations. 
If we write to the Lee k Times —the best friend we poor dyers ever had— 
we are afraid to sign our names; and if have a meeting it has to be kept 
a dead secret. In fact, it is not worth living to work under such circum¬ 
stances, and as far as I can see the only union we shall ever get will be the 
union workhouse, and many of us are half way there now. Give us a word 
to strengthen the fearful and encourage the weak. Somebody must help 
us. We cannot help ourselves. We have been down so long that we don’t 
know how to get up. 

P. S.—For God’s sake do not mention my name. 


170 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


For God’s sake, do not mention my name. What ? It 
is no crime to write to a pressman and say, “ I am not 
happy,” or “ I am ill-paid.” It is not against the law to 
say, “ We have no union ” If a man trembles to hear his 
own name given with his own true statements, what 
becomes of the sacred “ liberty of the individual ” ? Is 
this your liberty, then ? Is this the liberty we “ cannot 
sacrifice for any comfort ” ? Are these the noble aspira¬ 
tions and glorious ambitions that Socialism would trample 
out of life? Is this free England’s free choice? When 
a free man fears to speak his own flame? Surely there 
is some despotism even now extant. 

But Mr. Ingersoll says, “ The human race cannot afford 
to sell its liberty for any possible comfort.” I have, I 
think, said enough to satisfy you that the human race 
have no liberty to sell, but I don’t want you to suppose 
that Socialism is nothing nobler than a desire for comfort. 
We want better things than comfort. We want freedom 
and justice, and honor and education. Your individual¬ 
ist and utilitarian are the disciples of comfort. To their 
comfort and to their luxury all that is best and sweetest 
in the lives of the poor is sacrificed. They imagine that 
so long as the worker has enough to eat and drink he has 
all that he requires. The comfort they wot of is the com¬ 
fort of the hog—an overfed stomach, a bed of straw, and 
a close and filthy stye. We Socialists ask that the people 
shall be held as something better than hogs. We ask 
that they shall be treated as men and women—and to 
men and women comfort is not the fulfilment of life. 

The people need more than wages. They need leisure. 
They need culture. They need humane and rational 
amusement. They need the chance to exercise those 
“splendid ambitions and aspirations” about which our 
critic is eloquent. 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


171 


I want to know why the collier and the weaver and the 
railway drudge and the silk dyer should be doomed to a 
dull and brutish round of labor—I will not call it work— 
and greasy stew, and bad beer, and straw mattress, and 
filthy slum ? I want to know why the yahoo yelping of 
the free and easy should be considered recreation; and 
why the promotion to a head shuntership at $5 should 
be counted as high enough ambition ? Tell me, why 
should not the best that art, and science, and literature, 
and music, and poetry, and the drama can do be placed 
at the disposal of the humblest workers ? Why should 
not the factory girl be an educated lady ? Why should 
the collier not be a cultured gentleman? 

The answer is “ Capitalism ! ” The exigencies of capi¬ 
talism grind these people down, rob them of rest, of energy, 
of health, of food, of time—so that they have neither 
heart nor mind nor opportunity to become aught but 
drudges. Talk about “ splendid ambitions and aspira¬ 
tions ! ” Such things now are for the fortunate few; but 
we want them for the many. 

Beware of mistaking “ what is understood as Socialism ” 
for the genuine article. Genuine Socialism would make 
the collier into a gentleman. “What is understood as 
Socialism ” could only make the gentleman into a collier. 
There is a difference. 


17 '2 


MElililE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

INDUSTRY. 

Nearly every problem of State policy and economy, as at present under¬ 
stood, and practised, consists in some devise for persuading you laborers 
to go and dig up dinner for us reflective and aesthetical persons, who like 
to sit still, and think, or admire. So that when we get to the bottom of the 
matter, we find the inhabitants of this earth broadly divided into two great 
masses; the peasant paymasters—spade in hand, original and imperial 
producers of turnips; and, waiting on them all around, a crowd of polite 
persons, modestly expectant of turnips, for some—too often theoretical— 
service.— Ruskin. 

When Socialists complain of the misery of the poor 
they are often told by Pressmen, Parsons, and Politicians, 
that all the sufferings of the poor are due to their own 
vices and folly. Thus, a short time ago, the Manchester 
Examiner and Times, in reviewing a little book of mine, 
went out of its way to offer me a lesson in political econ¬ 
omy, and announced that the misery of the masses was 
due “to sin, hereditary and acquired.” 

The Examiner implied, of course, that the misery of 
the people was due to their own sin. 

This is the very reverse of the truth. The misery of 
the people is due to the sins, negligences, and ignorances 
of those who rob them of their earnings, and grow rich 
upon their moral ruin and physical destruction. Is it 
true that poverty is the result of idleness, of improvi¬ 
dence, and of vice ? 

If it were, then we should always find that the idle, the 
vicious, and the improvident were poor; and that the 
industrious, the thrifty, and the temperate were well off. 


MERR IE ENGLAND. 


178 


But it is a fact that many idle, vicious, and improvident 
people are rich, and it is a fact that the poorest people in 
the world are the most industrious, and sober, and 
thrifty. 

Now, I want to convince you of two things. Firstly, 
that the vices of the poor are due to their surround¬ 
ings, instead of the surroundings being due to the vices; 
and, secondly, that universal industry, and thrift, and 
temperance amongst the poor would tend to make them 
poorer than they now are. 

The sins laid to the charge of the poor are three:— 

1 Idleness. 

2 Improvidence. 

8 Drunkenness. 

The first charge is a false libel. So far from the poor 
being criminally idle, they are criminally industrious. 

The second charge is a misnomer. The improvidence 
of the poor is so clearly due to ignorance that it should 
be called by that name. 

The third charge, that of drunkenness, has a greater 
foundation of truth, although I believe from my personal 
observation, which has been extensive, that the poor are 
much more temperate than many of their critics would 
have us believe. 

First of all, let us consider this word industry. You 
often hear industry praised as a virtue. I think the thing 
is not a virtue in itself. The virtue lies in the motive 
and method of its use. There is no virtue in a plough. 
It is an instrument for good or evil according as it is 
used for preparing the field for a crop, or for tearing up 
the garden of an enemy. So with industry. We read of 
those whose hands are cunning to devise an evil thing, 
and whose feet are swift to do iniquity. We should not 
praise a burglar for his industry though he might rob a 


174 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


dozen villas in a week. If mere doing is to get us praise, 
what laudable and industrious men were Alexander and 
Bonaparte! They were always working, but the seed 
they sowed was evil. 

Industry is only expedient and valuable for the nation 
when it produces good fruits. It is only laudable in the 
individual when inspired by noble motives. You must 
not suppose that the nations which do the most work are 
the greatest nations. You must not fall into the error of 
the economist,and suppose that the people who “produce 
most ” are the greatest or the worthiest people. Before 
praising a nation for its productiveness and industry, we 
should inquire if the things they produce are noble or 
worthless things, and if the labor of their hands is the 
labor of slaves or of freemen—of artists or of Philis¬ 
tines. 

It does not follow that the man who works the hardest 
is the most industrious man, nor that he deserves much 
credit for what he does. He may be constrained to work 
by force of fate. It may be with him a case of work or 
starve. lie may be working for selfish ends only—for 
greed, or avarice, or ambition, or vanity—as many of us 
are. Then if the work of his hands or wits be good work 
it is expedient, but it is not noble in him. He deserves 
as little admiration, earns as little reward, and is inspired 
by motives no higher than those which actuate the money¬ 
lender, or the gambler, or the time-serving politician. 

The kind of industry worthy of praise is the kind which 
is useful in its ends and unselfish in its objects. If, in 
a colony, there were a scarcity of corn, if a few men owned 
the land and the rest had to till it for their food; if the 
landlords gave only a pound of meal for a day’s service, 
and set the day’s service at fourteen hours, the servants 
would have to work hard. They would have to work 


MEIWIE ENGLAND. 


175 


like beasts of burden ; or starve, or fight. If they toiled 
and suffered would you call their slavery industry? 
Would you praise and honor them as noble and diligent 
men ? I should say they are cowards and fools to endure 
this. I should say their lives are laborious, but not in¬ 
dustrious, and that their efforts are no more worthy in 
them or creditable to them than those of the tram-horse 
who fags in the shafts all day—for dread of the whip-thong 
in his driver’s hand. But that is the commonest form of 
industry to-day, and that is the kind of industry the peer 
and pressman, the bishop and the capitalist, have in their 
minds when they extol the dignity of labor and the virtue 
of industry, and when they impress upon the minds of 
the working-class audiences the glory of “ honest toil.” 

Suppose the case changed with our Colony. The land 
is in the hands of the people, but its yield is meagre and 
bread is scarce. The working day is fixed at ten hours, 
that being the time essential to the production of the 
smallest yield capable of supporting life. Would you 
call the man who worked his ten hours faithfully day 
after day—and no more—an industrious man? Would 
you say he was a man to praise and admire ? I should 
say no. This man does his duty and no more ; and it is 
not a virtue for a man to do his duty, for it would be a 
sin if he did not do his duty. This man bears the same 
relation to an industrious man that an honest man bears 
to a generous one. The honest man pays what is due. 
That is all his duty—as he understands it—demands. If 
he did less he would be a rogue. But the generous man 
not only pays what is claimed—he gives what is wanted. 

Again, suppose one man to be left to support himself. 
Though he worked twenty hours a day to get food or 
luxuries for himself, you would not call that laudable. 
Because the motive is purely a selfish one, and all the 


176 


ME BRIE ENGLAND. 


labor is for his own gratification. But this is a form of 
industry much belauded by our pastors and masters. 
This lonely selfish glutton is a man made of the stuff of 
which very many British heroes have been made. lie is 
painfully like the men held up to us as examples to copy 
and as idols to worship. He is the kind of man who 
“gets on.” 

Return again to our Colony. The land is the people’s. 
The fixed working hours are ten a day ; but the fields are 
not enough tilled and the harvests are still poor. Now 
suppose some man seeing this goes out and works five 
hours extra daily for the common good, he is an industrious 
man. He is made of the stuff of which real heroes are 
spun. Or suppose he sees that pick and spade and muscle 
and bone are overmatched in the struggle to win bread 
from the obstinate soil, and seeing this gives all his 
thought and time, sacrifices all his pleasures and desires, 
to the one task of designing and constructing a plough or 
other engine to relieve and feed the weary and famished 
people—well, I say, that is an industrious man ; that is 
a noble man. His work is “ honest toil; ” he is a hero. 

Or suppose another case—the case of a man who loves 
work for its own sake. Here is an artist, say, or a musi¬ 
cian. He loves art or music. He labors at his chosen art 
with all the power lie has, with all the thought, and love, 
and courage, and patience of his nature. With a devotion 
that no rebuff; can shake, with an affection that no triumph 
can weaken, he stands at his easel or sits at his piano 
content laboriously and obscurely to create beautiful things 
for their own sake. Then, I say, that man is an indus¬ 
trious man. He is a man most valuable to his fellow- 
creatures, but he is not so exalted a hero as the man 
described just now. There is a great difference between 
work and toil, between task work and work of choice; 


ME1UHE ENGLAND. 


177 


and this difference—palpable as it is to a man like me, 
who has tried both forms of labor—is too often lost sight 
of by moralists who make it their business to preach to 
the masses. 

Between the navvy wheeling interminable harrows of 
clay over endless miles of planks at a fixed pittance, and 
the struggling author or painter living on dry bread and 
dreams in a garret there is this immense difference, that 
whereas the navvy's work is a dull, monotonous, unin¬ 
teresting task, with no motive but that of winning an 
animal subsistence, no exercise except for the physical 
powers, and no hope beyond a doubtful promotion to the 
post of ganger, the work of the painter or the writer, 
howsoever poor and obscure he he, is a labor of love; a 
labor that is in itself a pleasure, a recreation, and an 
education. A work that employs and trains the highest 
faculties; that inspires the heart and brain with the 
brightest hopes; that holds out to the poorest and most 
insignificant of its drudges at least a chance, a little 
promise, however remote, of the highest honors and the 
most magnificent rewards. 

It is all very well for the business man, the parson, 
the author, the engineer, the member of Parliament, to 
abuse the workman as idle, thriftless, and drunken; but 
let us do the workman justice. Let us remember that 
his work is neither exciting, pleasing, ennobling, nor 
remunerative. Often I have heard professional men say, 
“ Talk about the working classes ! what do they know of 
work ? They never work as hard as I do. They have 
not the worry and strain that mental work involves. I 
am a manufacturer—a doctor—a lawyer—my work is 
never done.” All this is true. The doctor’s work or the 
author’s work is never done. But remember that he 
loves it so much that he would not wish it ever done. He 


12 


178 


MERR1E ENGLAND. 


is so wrapped up in it, so wedded to it, that if it were 
done, if lie were obliged to take off the harness and to go 
to grass in the prime of life, he would actually break 
his heart. 

It is very nice for professional men to boast of their 
industry and love of work. They are doing the work of 
their choice. But take them away from the theatre or the 
desk, the pulpit, or the quarter-deck, and set them to 
carrying bricks up a ladder, stitching slop clothing, or 
scribbling out invoices, and see how they will enjoy that, 
and how industrious they will be. 

It is easy to tell a workman to be industrious and con¬ 
tented in that walk of life to which Providence has called 
him. But it would be neither easy nor pleasant to take 
his place and show him how it should be done ; and I tell 
you frankly I believe that if Providence called a Prime 
Minister or a Bishop to dig coals or puddle iron, Provi¬ 
dence would have to use a long trumpet or the gentlemen 
would not hear. 

Ask any man of taste and sense which he would 
prefer—a pitcher with a stencil pattern printed on it, a bad 
copy multiplied a thousand times of some original design, 
or the same pitcher moulded in a form peculiar to itself, and 
ornamented with the original design itself hand-painted, 
and not repeated on any other piece of pottery extant. 
Ide will tell you he prefers the original work. 

Now, ask any man of taste and sense whether he would 
rather tend a machine which should turn out pitchers by 
the thousand all of one form and color, or himself turn 
and mould the clay upon the wheel and under his own 
hand. Ask any man who knows men and life and under¬ 
stands human nature and human work, whether a number 
of men or women would rather stamp the same design 
ten thousand times upon a piece of plaster, or set to work 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


179 


with gouge and chisel and carve out leaves and flowers 
to their own fancy and design. 

In proportion as you can make men’s work artistic 
will it become pleasant and elevating and productive of 
contentment. In proportion as the work becomes more 
pleasing, more interesting and more noble will the people 
grow to love it; and the more the people come to love 
their work, the more industrious and contented will they 
be. That is one of the practical values of art. 

But, again, there is a negative as well as a positive 
value in art. If a man’s work is irksome, brutish, cheer¬ 
less, and without hope or interest, the man grows jaded 
and dissatisfied. Getting no hope, no variety, no joy nor 
excitement out of the labor of his hands and brain, he 
seeks for change and relaxation elsewhere. He must 
have change and rest and pleasure. The duller and 
harder his task, the more his thirst for excitement and 
for ease. Just think of these facts. Remember that by 
making a man a drudge, you make him contract a debt 
to nature ; and nature will be paid. If you will or must 
have drudges, you must and shall provide them an an¬ 
tidote to the bane, or they must and will provide the 
antidote themselves. You see that, do you not ? Well, 
there are the drudges drudging all around you. Have 
you provided them abundance of pure and innocent 
recreation for their leisure and refreshment? You have 
not. But you grant a great many public-house licenses I 
notice. You set them an example on the Stock Exchange 
and in the counting-house and on the racecourse which 
they may follow. And the result-? 



180 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER XX. 


ENVIRONMENT. 

A civilized people desires that they who produce its wealth should be 
intelligent, honest, thrifty, far-seeing, prudent, and, to the fullest extent 
possible, cultivated and well mannered. It is impossible that these ad¬ 
vantages should be secured, and the economics which they invariably 
effect secured with them, unless the workman is adequately remunerated 
for his labor, and is encouraged to hope.— Thorold Rogers. 

In Sicily the workers ars as temperate as dogs; and they are treated tike 
dogs.— The Clarion. 

Some sell their lives for bread; 

Some sell their souls for gold; 

Some seek the river bed; 

Some seek the workhouse mould. 

Such is proud England’s sway, 

Where wealth may work its will; 

White flesh is cheap to-day, 

White souls are cheaper still.— Fantasias. 

By Nature we nearly resemble one another; condition separates us very 
far.— Confucius. 

Let us now consider how far drunkenness is responsi¬ 
ble for the poverty of the masses. First of all, let me 
say a few words on drink and drinking. It would be a 
mistake to suppose that the man who is oftenest drunk 
is the heaviest drinker. Many a highly-respectable mid¬ 
dle-class gentleman spends more money on drink in one 
day than a laborer earns in a week, yet withal is accounted 
a steady man. I have seen a journalist, and one very 
severe upon the vices of the poor, drink eight shillings 
worth of whiskey and soda in an evening, and do his work 
correctly. I have known a sailor to sit up all night play¬ 
ing at cards, and consume about a pint of rum and a gal- 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


181 


Ion of stout in the process, and then go out at eight in the 
morning and score nine consecutive bull’s-eyes at 200 
yards. But the average poor laborer of the slums would 
be mad on a quarter of the liquor. Why ? 

There are three principal reasons:—1. The laborer is 
often in a low state of health. 2. The laborer does not 
drink with any caution or method. 3. The laborer does 
not get pure liquor. 

Now I must in justice say for the poor that they have 
great excuse for drinking, and that they are often blamed 
for being drunk when they are simply poisoned. 

Drunkenness is a disease. It is just as much a disease 
as typhus fever or cholera, and often arises from very 
similar causes. Any medical man will tell you that 
the craving for alcoholic stimulants is frequently found 
amongst men whose nervous system is low. 

But there are, I think, three chief causes of drunken¬ 
ness. A man may crave for drink when his system is out 
of order. And this may result, and generally does result, 
from overwork, from worry, from dulness of life, induc¬ 
ing depression, from lack of rest, or from living or work¬ 
ing amid unhealthy surroundings. Hence you will find 
many professional men give way to drink from sheer men¬ 
tal over-strain, and you will find many dwellers in the 
slums give way to drink from loss of sleep, from over¬ 
work, from ill-health or from the effects of foul air. 

Or a man may become a drunkard from the habit of 
taking drink. Doubtless there are many thousands of 
men working in the coal mines, or ironworks, or as coal 
dischargers, or as wool staplers, or masons, or chemical 
laborers, who from the intense heat, or severe exertion, 
or choking dust, amongst which they labor, are compelled 
to drink freely, and so acquire the morbid taste for 
liquor. 


182 


ME HR IE ENGLAND. 


Or a man may lead a dull and cheerless life, and live 
amid squalid and gloom}?’ surroundings, and so may con¬ 
tract the habit of going to the public-house for company 
and change and for excitement, and so may acquire the 
habit of drinking by those means. 

Or a man may have inherited the disease from drunken 
parents; parents who acquired it from one of the causes 
above named. 

Now, Mr. Smith, you know that many of the poor work 
at unhealthy trades and live in unhealthy places; and 
you know that they work too hard and too long, and that 
their lives are dull and anxious, and I ask you is it sur¬ 
prising that such people take to drink? Moreover, those 
purists who bear so hardly upon the workers for this 
fault, have seldom a word to say against the men who 
drive them to drink. But the real culprits, the people 
actually responsible for nearly all the drunkenness of the 
poor, are the grasping employers, the polluters of the 
rivers and the air, the jerry-builders, the slum-lords, and 
the detestable knaves who grow rich by the sale of 
poisoned and adulterated liquor. 

Give the people healthy homes, human lives, due leis¬ 
ure and amusement, and pure meat and drink, and 
drunkenness will soon disappear. While there are slums, 
while men have no pure pleasure, while they are over¬ 
worked, and untaught, and while the wealthy brewer can 
open his poison dens at every street corner, it will be use¬ 
less to preach temperance. The late Dean of Manches¬ 
ter spoke like a man of sense when he said that if he lived 
in the slums he too would take to drink. 

Do you doubt me when I say that it is the surround¬ 
ings that make the vices of the people ? 

Put a number of well-disposed people into bad surround¬ 
ings and compel them to stop there. In a century you 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


183 


will have the kind of people now to be found in the slums. 
Take, now, a lot of people from the slums and put them 
in a new country where they must work to live, where 
they can live by work, where fresh air and freedom and 
hope can come to them, and in a generation you will have 
a prosperous and creditable colony. Do you not know 
this to be true ? Has it not happened both ways ? Do 
not Dr. Barnardo’s outcast children turn out well? Then 
what is the reason ? Men are made by their environment. 

It has been said that dirt is matter in the wrong place. 
I often think that ne’er-do-wells are examples of energy 
in the wrong place. Emerson says “ There is no moral 
deformity but is a good passion out of place.” Some nat¬ 
ures cannot thrive without a great deal of excitement. 
They have in them such desire of activity, such hunger 
for adventure, that they are incapable of settling down 
to the dull hum-drum life of British respectability and 
profit-making. Sir Walter Raleigh was a bold explorer 
and a grand admiral, but I cannot imagine him a success 
as a Lancashire weaver, with $5 a week and two holidays 
a year. Turn these restless spirits loose in a congenial 
sphere, and they will do much good work, as, indeed, 
much good work has been done by such. But dulness 
and monotony, task work and tracts, are not food hot 
enough for their palates. And so they seek such change 
and such excitement as lie in their way. And the dealer 
in doctored gin and the retailer of racing “ morals ” find 
their profit in them; but they might have been fine fac¬ 
tors in the sum of human progress. 

To tell these people that they shall have help and love 
when they quit their vices is like telling a sick man that 
he shall be sent to the seaside as soon as he recovers his 
health. 

Sow some wheat on sterile land, and it will give a poor 


184 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


harvest. Would you say “ While there are poor harvests 
there must be sterile lands ? ” Put a fish into a small 
and dirty globe, and he will sicken. Would you say that 
while there are sick fishes there must be small globes and 
impure water ? Yet you say while there are vice and 
improvidence there must he poverty. 

Why, do the middle and upper classes take so much 
trouble with the nursing and education of their children ? 
Why do they instil into their young minds principles of 
honesty, of industry, of virtue, of culture ? Why do they 
send their sons and daughters to school and to college. 
Why do they teach them cleanliness and sobriety ? Why 
do they so jealously watch over their morals? Why do 
they take such trouble and incur such expense in the 
effort to shield them from all that is vicious, and indecent, 
and unhealthy ? Is it not to ensure their moral and mental 
and physical welfare ? You will say, “ Of course.” 

It seems, then, that even the children of educated, hon¬ 
est, and virtuous parents need to be carefully trained and 
guarded to prevent them falling into idleness and vice. 
For if children would grow up good without watchfulness 
and cultivation, it would be mere folly and waste of time 
and means to trouble about teaching them. Now if all 
this care is necessary to ensure moral excellence, it fol¬ 
lows that without such care moral excellence could not 
he ensured. That is to say, that in our colleges, in our 
Sunday-schools, in our home lessons, in the tender and 
earnest solicitude of good parents, we find an acknowledg¬ 
ment of the fact that a child is what he is taught to be. 

Now suppose a child is deprived of this education. 
Suppose it is born in a poor hovel, in a poor slum. Sup¬ 
pose its home surroundings are such that cleanliness and 
modesty are well-nigh impossible. Suppose the gutter is 
its playground; the ginshop its nursery; the factory its 


MERRIE ENGLAND . 


185 


college; the drunkard its exemplar; the ruffian and the 
thief its instructors ! Suppose bad nursing, bad air, bad 
water, bad food, dirt, hunger, ill-usage, foul language, and 
hard work are its daily portion. Suppose it has inherited 
poor blood, dull spirits, enfeebled wit, and stunted stature, 
from its ill-fed, untaught, overworked, miserable, igno¬ 
rant, and unheal thy parents, can you expect that child to 
be clever, and moral, and thrifty, and clean, and sober ? 

Again. What next to their education and surroundings 
makes well-bred and well-taught children happy and 
good and industrious? Simply their good and pleasant 
environment. Life is to them worth living. They have 
comfort and love and knowledge and—hope. But the 
child of “ the great unwashed ” has none of these things. 
His lot is labor and poverty, his pleasure is in drunkenness 
and gambling, his future is gloomier than his horrible 
present. You talk about the social virtues! These poor 
creatures have not even food, or rest, or air, or light! Now, 
I say, give them food and air, and light and leisure; give 
them education, and give them hope, and they will cease 
to be vicious and improvident. 

The poor! The poor! The poor ! The thriftlessness 
of the poor! The intemperance of the poor! The idle¬ 
ness of the poor ! How long yet have we to listen to this 
cackle? How long have we to hear men prate about the 
poor and about the working classes who never knew what 
poverty is, who never knew what hunger means, who 
never did a stroke of manual work, and whose knowledge 
of “the poor” is got from the poems and the novels and 
the essays of university “swells,” or from furtive and 
uncharitable glances at the public-house steps or the pawn¬ 
shop door as their excellencies’ carriages are hurrying 
them through the outskirts of the slums! 

Perhaps you will say, John, that if the surroundings 


186 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


make the man, then all the denizens of the slums, and all 
the workers in the mines, would drink. But, no. You 
would not say that the had drainage of a district would 
give all the inhabitants the fever, but only that it would 
give those the fever whose health made them most amen¬ 
able to the germs of the disease. 

I am not arguing that poverty inevitably leads to drink, 
but only that it is the chief cause of drunkenness. 

There is a common belief to the effect that if the poor 
were all industrious, sober, and thrifty they would cease 
to be poor. This error arises from confusion of thought. 

It is quite true that a sober man will succeed better 
than a drunken man; but it is not true that if all the 
people were sober their wages would increase. 

Suppose there are ten clerks in an office, nine of whom 
are unsteady and one steady. The steady man will very 
likely become head clerk. But this is not because he is 
steady, but because the others are not steady. For you 
will observe that no one thinks of promoting a clerk be¬ 
cause he is honest, for very few clerks being dishonest 
the honest clerk is not singular. 

You must not suppose that because a sober and indus¬ 
trious man will succeed—in some trades—better than a 
drunken and lazy man that therefore the whole trade 
would succeed better by becoming abstainers and hard 
workers ? 

You are fond of “facts.” What are the facts with 
regard to thrift and industry amongst the workers? 

The Hindoos are amongst the most abstemious and in¬ 
dustrious people; and they are about the worst-paid people 
in the world. The immigrant Jews in the tailoring and 
slipper trades are wonderfully thrifty, sober, and indus¬ 
trious, and they work terribly long hours for shamefully 
low wages. 


MEBB IE ENGLAND. 


187 


Under competition the workers do not gain any advan¬ 
tage by being sober and industrious. They gain a lower 
depth of serfdom and a harder task of slavery. If the 
Englishman will work for fifteen hours and live on bread 
and cheese, the foreigner will have to work for eighteen 
hours and eat grass, and that is what your capitalists 
mean when they tell you that Englishmen are being 
pushed out of the market by foreigners because foreigners 
will work harder and take less pay. 

But allow me to quote the statement of this case given 
by me in my reply to the Bishop of Manchester:— 

“ In all foreign nations where the standard of living is 
lower than in England, your lordship will find that the 
wages are lower also.” 

“ Has not your lordship often heard our manufacturers 
tell the English workers that if they would emulate the 
thrift and sobriety of the foreigner they might success¬ 
fully compete against foreign competition in the foreign 
markets ? My lord, what does that mean, but that thrift 
would enable our people to live on less, and so to accept 
less wages ? ” 

“Your lordship knows that our shirtmakers here in 
Manchester are miserably paid.” 

“This is because capitalism always keeps the wages 
down to the lowest standard of subsistence which the 
people will accept.” 

“ So long as our English women will consent to work 
long hours, and live on tea and bread, the ‘ law of supply 
and demand ’ will maintain the present condition of sweat¬ 
ing in the shirt trade.” 

“If all our women became firmly convinced that they 
could not exist without chops and bottled stout the wages 
must go up to a price to pay for those things.” 


188 


MEBRIE ENGLAND. 


“ Because there would be no women offering to live on tea 
and bread; and shirts must be had.” 

“ But what, my lord, is the result of the abstinence of 
these poor sisters of ours ? Low wages for themselves, 
and, for others-? 

“ A young merchant wants a dozen shirts. lie pays 10s. 
each for them, lie meets a friend who only gives 8s. for 
his. He goes to the 8s. shop and saves 24s. This is clear 
profit, and he spends it in cigars, or champagne, or in some 
other luxury; and the poor seamstress lives on toast and 
tea.” 

Many shallow thinkers assert that if a man is determined 
to succeed he will succeed. This is not true, but if it 
were true it would not prove that the qualities of energy, 
talent, and self-denial which enable one man to improve 
his condition would enable all men to improve their con¬ 
ditions. For the one man only succeeds because of his 
superior strength and skill ; but if all men displayed 
strength and skill equal to his he could not rise. 

There is a panic in a theatre and a fight for egress. A 
big strong man will force his way out over the bodies of 
the weak. 

Now don’t you see how foolish it is for that man to tell 
the weak that if they were as strong as he they could get 
out? If they were as strong as he, he could not get out 
himself. 

A short time ago a certain writer, much esteemed for 
his graceful style of saying silly things, informed us that 
the poor remain poor because they show no efficient desire 
to be anything else. Is that true? Are only the idle 
poor ? Come with me and I will show you where men 
and women work from morning till night, from week to 
week, from year to year, at the full stretch of their 
powers, in dim and foetid dens, and yet are poor—ay, des- 



ME ERIE ENGLAND. 


189 


titute—have for their wages a crust of bread and rags. 
I will show you where men work in dirt and heat, using 
the strength of brutes, for a dozen hours a day and sleep 
at night in styes, until brain and muscle are exhausted 
and fresh slaves are yoked to the golden car of commerce, 
and the broken drudges filter through the union or the 
prison to a felon’s or a pauper’s grave! And I will show 
you how men and women thus work and suffer and faint 
and die, generation after generation ; and I will show you 
how the longer and the harder these wretches toil the 
worse their lot becomes ; and I will show you the graves, 
and find witnesses to the histories of brave and noble and 
industrious poor men whose lives were lives of toil, and 
poverty, and whose deaths were tragedies. 

And all these things are due to sin—but it is to the sin 
of the smug hypocrites who grow rich upon the robbery 
and the ruin of their fellow-creatures. 


190 


MEERIE ENGLAND . 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE RIGHTS OF THE INDIVIDUAL. 

I think that my contention, which I see quoted by Mr. Goscken, could 
be exhaustively proved, that every act of the legislature which seems to 
interfere with the doctrine of laissez-faire , and has stood the test of ex¬ 
perience, has been endorsed because it has added to the general efficiency 
o labor, and, therefore, to the general well-being of society .—Thorold 
Rogers. 

Law was made for property alone.— Macaulay. 

You have very likely, heard of the thing called Indi¬ 
vidualism. You may have read articles or heard speeches 
in which Socialism has been assailed as an interference 
with the rights of the individual. You may have wondered 
why among the rights of the individual, no place was 
given to the right to live; or that the apostles of Indi¬ 
vidualism should be so strangely blind to the danger of 
leaving private enterprise tm-curbed. But you need not 
wonder about these things, for Individualism is a relic of 
savagery and its apologists would be agitating for the re¬ 
turn of the good old individual right of carrying a stone 
club and living by promiscuous robbery and murder, were 
they not convinced that the law of supply and demand, 
although a more cowardly and brutal weapon than the 
cannibal’s club, is infinitely more deadly and effective. 

Society consists of individuals—so Herbert Spencer 
says. And that dogma if it means anything, means that 
society is a concourse of independent atoms and not a 
united whole. But you know that statement is not in 
accord with fact or reason—not to speak of morality. 


MEIiRIE ENGLAND. 


191 


You know that society consists of a number of more or 
less antagonistic parties, united amongst themselves for 
purposes of social warfare, and that where an independ¬ 
ent individual is found he is always either a good man, 
trying to persuade the combatants to reason and right¬ 
eousness ; or a bad man, trying to fleece them that his 
own nest may be warm. 

How, indeed, can society be a multitude of unconnected 
units? I look in my dictionary, and I find the word 
“ society ” defined as “ a union of persons in one interest; 
fellowship.” And clearly, society means a number of 
men joined by interest or affection. For how can that be 
a society which has no social connections? A mob of 
antagonistic individuals is a chaos, not a society. 

And with regard to that claim that men should be left 
free to fight each for his own hand—is that civilization or 
anarchy ? And will it result in peace or in war, in pros- 
perty or in disaster? Not civilization, but savagery; not 
Christianity, but cannibalism is the spirit of this doctrine 
of selfishness and folly. And I ask you again in this 
case, as I did in the case of the gospel of “ avarice” : Is 
not love stronger than hate? And will not a society 
founded on love and justice certainly flourish, as the 
society founded on hate and strife will certainly 
perish ? 

Before you answer look around you at the state of 
England to-day, and cast back in your mind for the les¬ 
sons of the nations that are gone. What is the apex of 
the gospel of avarice and of the law of supply and de¬ 
mand ? Sweating! What is the result of the liberty of 
the individual, to cozen the strong and destroy the weak 
for the sake of useless gain or worthless power? Does 
not one man wax rich by making many poor—one man 
dwells in a palace by keeping many in hovels ? And are 


192 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


not the people crushed with taxation, which the impotent 
and lazy squander and misuse? 

One Individualist, Mr. Levy, in an article written by 
him against Socialism a few years ago, says that— 

The Individualist denies to A and B the right of prescribing for C what 
will do him good, and forcing it down his throat by the aid of the police¬ 
man’s truncheon. He denies that A and B have any right whatever to 
coerce C, except to prevent him invading the rights of others , and to exact 
from him his share in the maintenance of the common liberty. 

The italics are mine. On this point we are agreed. 
Our difference is as to what constitutes an “ Invasion of 
the rights of others.” I say, why punish the kind of thief 
we call a burglar, and not the kind of thief we call a 
sweater ? Why hang the murderer who kills in the heat 
of passion and from motives of jealousy or revenge, and 
not the murderer who slays wholesale by the death-trap 
of the slums, and slays in cold blood, and from the bestial 
motive of -gain ? 

Mr. Levy says of Individualism:— 

It would strive to make the law such that, in the words of Kant— 
“ Every one may seek his own happiness in the way that seems good to 
himself, provided that he infringe not such freedom of others to strive 
after a similar end as is consistent with the freedom of all.” 

This is the same idea expressed in different words. 
Where are we to draw the line as to the “infringement 
of the freedom of others ? ” Are we to let the sweater 
and the retailer of diseased meat “ seek their own happi¬ 
ness in a way that seems good to themselves ” ? Are we 
to stop the men who infringe the freedom of others by aid 
of the machinery of capitalist monopoly ? Or are we only 
to stop the other rogues and ruffians who infringe our 
freedom with the bludgeon and the bullet? We agree 
that it is right for society to protect itself against some 
scoundrels. We differ as to which scoundrels are to be 
restrained. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


193 


Mr. Auberon Herbert says :— 

Government has no moral right to compel men for their own good, but 
only to restrain them from such aggressions upon each other as involve 
physical force, or such direct fraud as is the equivalent of physical force, 
from the point of view of the consent to transaction of the defrauded 
person. 

And another tract of his is headed by the following 
quotation from Mr. Herbert Spencer :— 

The liberty of each, limited alone by the like liberty of all. 

Now, you will observe that Government is here granted 
the power to restrain one man from injuring another by 
physical violence or from injuring him by “direct fraud,” 
but is not to have power to restrain the operations of in¬ 
direct fraud. But why should Government be allowed to 
prevent violence ? Why should Government be allowed 
to prevent murder or highway robbery ? I don’t know 
what reason the Individualist has for his belief that Gov¬ 
ernment should defend the subject from the burglar and 
the forger. Because, if it is best to Let the more criminal 
and more dangerous sweater rob and slay, I cannot un¬ 
derstand why it is necessary to interfere with the foot¬ 
pad and the scuttler. The reason I have for supporting 
the Government in its protection of the subject is easily 
given. But I’d rather use the word Society than the 
word Government. 

Society, according to my philosophy, is a union of people 
for mutual advantage. Every member of a society must 
give up some small fraction of his own will and advan¬ 
tage in return for the advantages he gains from associa¬ 
tion with his fellows. One of the advantages he derives 
from association with his fellows is protection from injury. 
The chief function of Government—which is the execu¬ 
tive power of the society’s will—is to protect the subject. 
Against whom is the subject to be protected ? I should 

*3 


194 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


say against oreign enemies, against injury by his fellow- 
subjects, and against calamities caused by his own igno¬ 
rance. We will lay by the first and third propositions, 
and consider the second. 

The subject is to be protected by the Government from 
injury by his fellow-subjects. Here I traverse the posi¬ 
tion of the Individualists. They will restrain the assassin 
and the passer of base coin, but they will not suffer any 
interference with the sacred liberty of the slum landlord 
or the sweater. And I fail to see their reason. 

There is no reason visible to my mind for empowering 
the Government, or society, to hang the man who steals 
a watch and murders the owner, except the reason I have 
given—that it is for the general advantage that society 
should be allowed to protect one of its members from in¬ 
jury by another. If that is the real reason why Govern¬ 
ment may hang a Charles Peace or send an “ Artful 
Dodger ” to jail, then it is also a sufficient reason why 
Government protection should be extended beyond the 
limits laid down in Mr. Herbert’s tracts. Because the 
sweater and the rack-renter, and the respectable dealer in 
adulterated goods are not only morally worse than the 
foot-pad and the area-sneak, but they are also guilty of 
greater and more deadly injury to their fellow-subjects. 

True, sweating and land-grabbing and other forms of 
the basest villainy are not illegal; and I would not have 
them illegally meddled with. But I would alter the law 
so that they should be illegal. This, I presume, Mr. Her¬ 
bert would not do. He will only defend us from the gar¬ 
rotter and the confidence-trick man. But I think it is as 
bad for a railway company to work a man a hundred and 
eight hours for seventeen shillings, or for a landlord to 
charge rent for a death trap, or for a tailor to grind his 
hands down to a slavery that takes up all their waking 


MERR IE ENGLAND . 


195 


hours and gives them in return a diet of bread and coffee, 
as for a thief to come and steal your false teeth. Nay, 
the sweater is altogether a more hateful, dangerous, 
deadly, and cowardly scoundrel than the pickpocket. 

Of course, the sweater’s slave and the railway porter are 
the “ free ” parties to the bargain. They need not accept 
the bloodsucker’s terms unless they choose. They have 
an alternative—they can starve. But I presume that even 
the most confirmed Individualist would stop a man from 
jumping down a precipice, or throwing himself under a 
train. That would be physical injury against which it is 
right to protect each other. But the poor girl who takes 
her suicide in the form of shirt-making is not to be inter¬ 
fered with. You must respect free contract and the lib¬ 
erty of the individual. 

Individual liberty is what we all desire—so far as it is 
possible to have it. But it is not possible to have it in its 
complete form, whilst we live in communities. By living 
in communities, men get many advantages. It is not good 
for man to be alone. For the advantages that society 
gives us, we must make some sacrifice. We might well 
have much more individual liberty than "we now have. 
We might easily have too much. We have too much— 
and too little—as things stand. A state of Socialism 
would give us all as much liberty as we need. A state of 
Individualism—of anarchy—would give some of us more 
liberty than it is wise and beneficial we should have. 

Most men are honest, most men love justice. For the 
great mass of the people the law is almost a dead letter. 
Honest men need no laws —except to defend them from 
rascals. Have you ever asked yourselves, my friends, 
what price our rascals cost us ? For them is all the costly 
machinery of Government, of armies, of fleets, of law 
courts, of prisons, police, workhouses, and the like main- 


196 


MERBIE ENGLAND. 


tained. Honest men do not need watching, for they 
would not steal; do not need repelling, for they would 
not invade. Consider the cost of all our police in its vari¬ 
ous forms, and then say what do our rascals cost us. 

If it had not been for interference with the liberty of 
the individual and the freedom of contract in the past the 
lot of the workers would have been unbearable. 

Ho you know anything about the Truck Act, which 
abolished the nefarious custom of paying wages in bad 
food ? Hid you ever consider the effect of forbidding the 
payment of wages in public-houses, or the employment of 
climbing-boys by sweeps? Have you ever read the 
history of the Factory Acts ? 

In “ The Industrial History of England,” by H. de B. 
Gibbins, M. A., you will find a few brief sketches of the 
state of things to which unchecked freedom of contract 
had reduced the factory workers before the Factory Acts 
were passed. From that book I will make a few ex¬ 
tracts :— 

ENGLISH SLAVERY: THE APPRENTICE SYSTEM. 

It was not until the wages of the workmen had been reduced to a 
starvation level that they consented to their children and wives being em¬ 
ployed in the mills. But the manufacturers wanted labor by some means 
or other, and they got it. They got it from the workhouses. They sent 
for parish apprentices from all parts of England, and pretended to appren¬ 
tice them to the new employments just introduced. The mill-owners sys¬ 
tematically communicated with the overseers of the poor, who arranged a 
day for the inspection of pauper children. Those chosen by the manufact¬ 
urer were then conveyed by wagons or canal boats to their destination, 
and from that moment were doomed to slavery. Sometimes regular 
traffickers would take the place of the manufacturer, and transfer a 
number of children to a factory district, and there keep them, generally 
in some dark cellar, till they could hand them over to a mill-owner in want 
of hands, who would come and examine their height, strength, and bodily 
capacities, exactly as did the slave-dealers in the American markets. After 
that the children were simply at the mercy of their owners, nominally as 
apprentices, but in reality as mere slaves, who got no wages, and whom it 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


197 


was not worth while to feed and clothe properly, because they were so 
cheap and their places could be so easily supplied. It was often arranged 
by the parish authorities, in order to get rid of imbeciles, that one idiot 
should be taken by the mill-owner with every twenty sane children. The 
fate of these unhappy idiots was even worse than that of the others. The 
secret of their final end has never boen disclosed, but we can form some 
idea of their awful sufferings from the hardships of the other victims to 
capitalist greed and cruelty. Their treatment was most inhuman. The 
hours of their labor were only limited by exhaustion after many modes of 
torture had been unavailingly applied to force continued work. Children 
were often worked sixteen hours a day, by day and by night. Even Sun¬ 
day was used as a convenient time to clean the machinery. The author 
of the “ History of the Factory Movement ” writes: “ In stench, in heated 
rooms, amidst a constant whirling of a thousand wheels, little fingers and 
little feet were kept in ceaseless action, forced into unnatural activity by 
blows from the heavy hands and feet of the merciless over-looker, and the 
infliction of bodily pain by instruments of punishment invented by the 
sharpened ingenuity of insatiable selfishness. They were fed upon the 
coarsest and cheapest food, often with the same as that served out to the 
pigs of their master. They slept by turns and in relays, in filthy beds 
which were never cool; for one set of children were sent to sleep in them 
as soon as the others had gone off to their daily or nightly toil. There was 
often no discrimination of the sexes; and disease and misery and vice grew 
as in a hot-bed of contagion. Some of these miserable beings tried to run 
away. To prevent their doing so, those suspected of this tendency had 
irons riveted on their ankles with long links reaching to the hips, and were 
compelled to work and sleep in these chains, young women and girls as 
well as boys suffering this brutal treatment. Many died and were buried 
secretly at night in some desolate spot, lest people should notice the 
number of the graves; and many committed suicide.” 

In 1873, Lord Shaftesbury, speaking in the House of 
Lords, said:— 

Well can I recollect, in the earlier periods of the factory movement, 
waiting at the factory gates to see the children come out, and a set of sad, 
dejected, cadaverous creatures they were. In Bradford, especially, the 
proofs of long and cruel toil were most remarkable. The cripples and dis¬ 
torted forms might be numbered by hundreds, perhaps by thousands. A 
friend of mine collected a vast number together for me; the sight was 
most piteous, the deformities incredible. They seemed to me, such were 
their crooked shapes, like a mass of crooked alphabets. 

You will find further particulars of these horrors in the 


198 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Blue Books of the period. Read them; read also the 
Blue Books on the sweating system, and the reports of 
the Labor Commission; read the facts relating to the 
Truck Acts and the chain and nail trades, and then read 
Mrs. Browning’s pathetic poem, of “ The Cry of the Chil¬ 
dren,” and I think you will be cured of any lingering affec¬ 
tion for the “ Freedom of Contract,” and the “ Rights of 
the Individual.” 

I quite understand Mr. Herbert’s desire for “ Liberty.” 
But we cannot have liberty while we have rascals. 
Liberty is another of the things we have to pay for the 
pleasure of the rascal’s company. Now I think Individ¬ 
ualism strengthens the hands of the rogue in his fight 
with the true man; and I think Socialism would fortify 
the true men against the rascals. I grant you that State 
Socialism would imply some interference with the liberty 
of the individual. But which individual ? The scoundrel 
Imagine a dozen men at sea in a boat with only two days’ 
provisions ? Would it be wise to consider the liberty of the 
individual ? If the strongest man took all the food and 
left the others to starve, would it be right or wrong for 
the eleven men to combine to bind him and divide all 
fairly ? To let the strong or the cunning rob the weak 
or honest is Individualism. To prevent the rascal from 
taking what is not his own is Socialism. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


199 


CHAPTER XXII. 

LUXURY. 

Dick Turpin is blamed—suppose—by some plain-minded person, for 
consuming the means of other people’s living. “ Nay,” says Dick to the 
plain-minded person, “observe how beneficently and pleasantly I spend 
whatever I get! ” 

“ Yes, Dick,” persists the plain-minded person, “ but how do you get 
it ? ” 

“The question,” says Dick, “is insidious and irrelevant.”— Ruskin. 

One sack sufficed each farmer, 

Well used to frugal fare; 

But the lord waxed fat, 

And, spite of that, 

Might not consume his share. 

Then spake that noble landlord 
“ My capital is large, 

And I’ll spend a hunk 
On a menial flunk’, 

To flunkey at my charge.” 

— The Clarion. 

This woman, ambitious and vain, thinks to enhance her own value by 
loading herself with gold, with precious stones, and a thousand other 
adornments. In order to deck her in braver array the whole nation ex¬ 
hausts itself; the arts groan and sweat in the laborious service; the whole 
range of industry wears itself out.— Bossuet. 

There is no country in which the whole annual produce is employed in 
maintaining the industrious. The idle everywhere consume a great part 
of it; and according to the different proportions in which it is annually 
divided between these two different orders of people, its ordinary or aver¬ 
age value must either annually increase or diminish, or continue the same 
from one year to another. . . .— Adam Smith. 

In this chapter I shall deal with the subject of luxury, 
and shall endeavor to make clear to you the fact that the 


200 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


luxury of the rich is a direct cause of the misery of the 
poor. 

It is very important that you should understand this 
matter, for it has been often and grossly confused by the 
statements of foolish or dishonest men. 

It was held for a long time that the rich man in spend¬ 
ing his money conferred a benefit upon the poor. 

This error has long since been abandoned even by most 
political economists, and is now only uttered by very ill- 
informed or unintelligent people. 

Amongst these is His Grace the Duke of Argyll, who, 
in a letter to Mr. John Ogilvey, coolly says :— 

But there are at least some things to be seen which are in the nature of 
facts and not at all in the nature of speculation or mere opinion. Amongst 
these some become clear from the mere clearing up of the meaning of 
words such as “ the unemployed.” Employment in this sense is the hiring 
of manual labor for the supply of human wants. The more these wants are 
stimulated and multiplied the more widespread will he the inducement to hire. 
Therefore all outcries and prejudices against the progress of wealth and of 
what is called “luxury ” are nothing hut outcries of prejudice against the 
eery sources and fountains of all employment. This conclusion is absolutely 
certain. 

The italics are mine. The Duke seems to suppose that 
the people can only live by hiring each other out to labor. 
He reminds me of Edward Carpenter’s Island, “ Where 
the inhabitants eked out a precarious living by taking in 
each other’s washing.” The Duke is quite right in saying 
that the more the wants of the rich are stimulated the 
more employment there will be for the people. But as 
that can only mean that the more the rich devour and waste 
the harder the people will have to work, I fail to see that 
the “ interests ” of the people lie in stimulating the idlers 
to greater gluttony and extravagance. The fact is His 
Grace, like Master Turpin in John Ruskin’s dialogue, 
quoted at the head of this chapter, has omitted to ex- 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


201 


plain how the rich get their money , and from whom they 
get it. 

But the Duke of Argyll is not alone in his ignorance. 
The Press we have always with us, and from Pressmen, 
writing for large daily papers, I quote three statements, 
all false and all foolish. 

The first is that “ luxury of the rich finds useful employ¬ 
ment for the poor.” 

The second that “ the expenditure of the rich confers 
upon the poor the two great blessings of work and 
wages.” 

The third that “ a rich man cannot spend his money 
without finding employment for vast numbers of people 
who without him must starve.” 

These statements, you will see, all amount to the same 
thing. The intelligent Pressmen who uttered them sup¬ 
posed that the rich man spent his own money, whereas he 
really spends the money of other people; that he found 
useful work for a number of men, whereas it is impossible 
to find a man useful work in making useless things ; and 
that the men employed by the rich must starve were it not 
for his help, whereas if it were not for his hindrance they 
would all be doing useful instead of useless work. 

All the things made or used by man may be divided into 
two classes, under the heads of necessaries and luxuries. 

I should include under the head of necessaries all those 
things which are necessary to the highest form of human 
life. 

** All those things which are not necessary to the highest 
form of human life I should call luxuries, or superfluities. 

For instance, I should call food, clothing, houses, fuel, 
books, pictures, and musical instruments necessaries; and 
I should call diamond ear-rings, race-horses, and broug¬ 
hams luxuries. 


202 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


Now, it is evident that all those things, whether luxuries 
or necessaries, are made by labor. Diamond rings, loaves 
of bread, grand pianos and flat irons, do not grow on trees. 
They must be made by the labor of the people, and it is 
very clear that the more luxuries a people produce the 
fewer necessaries they will produce. 

If a community consists of ten thousand people, and if 
nine thousand people are making bread and one thousand 
are making jewelry, it is evident that there will be more 
bread than jewelry. 

If in the same community nine thousand make jewelry 
and only one thousand make bread, there will be more 
jewelry than bread. 

In the first case there will be food enough for all, though 
jewels be scarce. In the second case the people must 
starve, although they wear diamond rings on all their 
fingers. 

In a well-ordered state no luxuries would be produced 
until there were enough necessaries for all. 

Robinson Crusoe’s first care was to secure food and 
shelter. Had he neglected his goats and his raisins and 
spent his time in making shell-boxes he would have starved. 
Under those circumstances he would have been a fool. 
But what are we to call the delicate and refined ladies who 
wear satin and pearls, while the people who earn them 
lack bread ? 

Take a community of two men. They work upon a plot 
of land and grow grain for food. By each working six 
hours a day they produce enough food for both. 

Now take one of those men away from the cultivation 
of the land and set him to work for six hours a day at the 
making of bead necklaces. What happens ? 

This happens—that the man who is left upon the land 
must now work twelve hours a day. Why ? Because, 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


203 


although his companion has ceased to grow grain he has 
not ceased to eat bread. Therefore, the man who grows 
the grain must now grow grain enough for two. That is 
to say, that the more men are set to the making of luxuries, 
the heavier will he the burden of the men who produce 
necessaries. 

But in this case, you see, the farmer does get some 
return for his extra labor. That is to say, he gets half 
the necklaces in exchange for half his grain; for there is 
no rich man. 

Suppose next a community of three—one of whom is a 
landlord, while the other two are farmers. 

The landlord takes half the produce of the land in rent, 
but does no work. What happens ? 

We saw just now that the two workers could produce 
enough grain in six hours to feed two men for one day. 
Of this the landlord takes half. Therefore, the two men 
must now produce four men’s food in one day, of which 
the landlord will take two, leaving the workers each one. 
Well, if it takes a man six hours to produce a day’s keep 
for one, it will take him twelve hours to produce a day’s 
keep for two. So that our two farmers must now work 
twice as long as before. 

But now the landlord has got twice as much grain as he 
can eat. He therefore proceeds to spend it, and in spending 
it he “finds useful employment” for one of the farmers. 
That is to say, he takes away one of the farmers off the 
land and sets him to building a house for the landlord. 
What is the effect of this ? 

The effect of it is that the one man left upon the land 
has now to find food for all three, and in return gets 
nothing. 

Consider this carefully. All men must eat, and here 
are two men who do not produce food. To produce food 


204 


ME HR IE ENGLAND. 


for one man takes one man six hours. To produce food 
for three men takes one man eighteen hours. The one 
man left on the land has, therefore, to work three times 
as long, or three times as hard as he did at first. In the 
case of the two men we saw that the farmer did get his 
share of the bead necklaces, but in the case of the three 
men the farmer gets nothing. The luxuries produced by 
the man taken from the land are enjoyed by the rich man. 

The landlord takes from the farmer two-thirds of his 
produce, and employs another man to help him to spend it. 

We have here three classes :— 

1. The landlord who does no work. 

2. The landlord’s servant who does work for the bene¬ 
fit of the landlord. 

3. The farmer who produces food for himself and the 
other two. 

Now, all the peoples of Europe, if not of the world, are 
divided into those three classes. 

In my lecture on luxury I showed these things by 
diagrams. We will use a diagram representing a com¬ 
munity of ten men supporting a figure representing ten 
men’s food. Thus :— 


TEN MEN’S FOOD. 


.V, jr, .w, ^ .u, w, ^ M, 

'7V -7T Vv •7V 7v 7v '7V "TV '7V '7V 

All the men represented here by stars are employed in 
making necessaries, and the figure they support is the 
amount of their labor. 

Now what I want you to clearly understand is that 
although you take away one of those ten men and set him 
to other work you do not take him away from the con¬ 
sumption of food. He has still to be fed, and he must be 



MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


205 


fed by the men who produce food. Suppose, then, that 
we take away seven of our ten men ; that we make one 
of them a Chief, and six of them the Chiefs servants, the 
figure will be left thus: 


TEN MEN’S FOOD. 

* * * 

The burden is the same, ten men's food; but the bearers 
are fewer. 

C is a jeweler, and sets diamonds for B. Where does 
B get the money to pay him ? he gets the money from A. 
It is clear, then, that A is keeping both B and C. 

Now we are told upon the authority of Mulhall and 
Giffen—see Fabian tract, “Facts for Socialists,”—that 
the division of the national earnings is as follows:— 

Millions. 


Rent. 200 

Interest. 250 

Salaries and profits of middle-class. 350 

Wages of workers. 450 


1,250 

The population is about 36 millions. The annual in¬ 
come about 5,000 millions. One-third of the people take 
two-thirds of the wealth, and the other two-thirds of the 
people take one-third of the wealth. 

That is to say that 24 millions of workers produce 5,000 
millions of wealth and give 4,000 millions of it to 12 mill¬ 
ions of idlers and non-producers. 

This means that each worker works one-third of his 
time for himself, and two-thirds of his time for other 
people. 

This looks bad enough, but it is not the worst. Amongst 
the 24 millions of the working-classes there are vast 
numbers of non-producers. There are millions of children 








206 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


and of women who produce nothing, and there must be 
millions of male “ workers ” who are engaged in produc¬ 
ing superfluities. Canon Girdlestone, in his pamphlet, 
“ Society Classified,” says:— 

It has been shown (by Alexander Wylie, in his “Labor, Leisure, and 
Luxury ”) that, even if we give a liberal extension of meaning to the terms 
“necessaries ’’and “comforts” of life, so large a proportion as four-elev¬ 
enths of the entire working population of this country are engaged in pro¬ 
ducing what, in contradistinction to the above, must properly be classified 
as “ luxuries,” i. e., commodities, etc., such as to healthy minds in healthy 
bodies are the merest superfluities. And if, as probably is the case, most 
of these embodiments of the “ services ” (or, as Dr. Thring calls them, 
“ the stored-up life ”) of others are purchased by “ non-workers,” and paid 
for in “ money ” only, the bad effect of the transaction taken as a whole 
cannot be trifling or contemptible! 

I should very much like to see society classified. If it 
were classified, and the number producing necessaries 
and the number producing luxuries were clearly shown, 
I think we should find that every adult male now engaged 
in producing necessaries is supporting about twenty 
people. 

My Lady Dedlock “finds useful employment” for Cris¬ 
pin, the shoemaker. She employs him to make Court 
slippers for her. Let us examine this transaction. 

First, where does my lady get her money? She gets it 
from her husband, Sir Leicester Dedlock, who gets it from 
his tenant farmer, who gets it from the agricultural 
laborer, Hodge. 

Then she employs Crispin to make Court slippers, and 
pays him with Hodge’s money. 

But if Crispin were not employed making shoes for my 
Lady he would be making boots for Hodge, or for the 
children of Hodge. 

Whereas, now, Hodge cannot buy boots because he has 
no money, and he has no money because my Lady Dedlock 
has taken it. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


207 


Or my lady orders a silk ball dress from Mrs. Mantilini. 
For this also she pays with money earned by Hodge, and 
meanwhile what kind of an old rag is worn by Mrs 
Hodge ? 

Again, as bearing on this question of my Lady Dedlock’s 
finding useful labor. I quote from a letter on the “ Scarc¬ 
ity of Dairymaids,” in the Pall Mall Gazette. Dairymaids 
are wanted, and dairymaids cannot be found. Then again 
a northern factor says in The North British Agriculturist 
that he cannot get dairymaids—though he offers $110 a 
year and board. The writer in the Pall Mall asks :— 

What would the “Special Commissioner” say about “Life in our Vil¬ 
lages ” if the £10,000,000 we paid last year for foreign butter, the £4,000,000 
for cheese, the £4,000,000 for margarine, and the £4,000,000 for eggs have 
been kept at home, giving employment to thousands—tens and hundreds 
of thousands—of our own countrymen and women, instead of foreigners ? 

Don’t you think it would be an improvement if some of 
the “ usefully ” employed domestic servants and milliners, 
weavers, spinners, and flower girls in the pay of Lady 
Dedlock were set to work to save the $110,000,000 spent 
on foreign dairy produce, because there are no hands here 
to produce these needed things ? 

Let us try to get an idea of the cost of some of those 
luxuries which the Duke of Argyll defends. 

A couple of years back a lady was summoned to the 
County Court for refusing to pay $450, a year’s rent to a 
furrier for the storage of her furs. The furs were valued 
at $30,000. 

To provide those furs a number of workers, including 
trappers, hunters, curers, sailors, merchants, and shop¬ 
men had been “ employed.” 

Supposing that each of these people was paid at the 
rate of $10 a week, that means : 

The labor of one man at $10 a week for 3,000 weeks. 


208 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Which means that sixty years of working life had been 
spent on the furs. Now, taking twenty years as the 
average duration of a man’s working life, we find that an 
amount of time equal to the working lives of three men 
had been lost to the nation for the sake of an idle woman’s 
vanity. 

We read, quite commonly, that at Lady Smalltork’s re¬ 
ception the cut flowers used for decoration coast $5,000. 

Estimate the average wages of all the people engaged 
in growing and carrying the flowers at $5 a week, we find 
that the sum reaches a thousand weeks or twenty years, 
that is the equivalent of the whole labor of a man’s life 
spent in finding flowers with which to decorate an idle 
woman’s room for one night. 

Take a larger instance. There are mansions, which, in 
building and decoration, have cost millions. 

Average the wages of all the men engaged in the erec¬ 
tion and fitting of such a house at $10 a week. We shall 
find that the mansion has “found employment” for 160 
men for 20 years. Now while those men were engaged 
on that mansion they produced no necessaries for them¬ 
selves. But they consumed necessaries, and those neces¬ 
saries were produced by the same people who found the 
money for the Duke to spend. That is to say that the 
builders were kept by the producers of necessaries, and 
the producers of necessaries were paid, for the builders’ 
keep with money which they, the producers of necessaries, 
had earned for the Duke. 

The conclusion of this sum being that the producers of 
necessaries had been compelled to support one hundred 
and sixty men, and their wives and children, for twenty 
years ; and for what? 

That they might build one house for the occupation of 
one idle man . 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


209 


If this should meet the eye of His Grace the Duke of 
Argyll, he will perhaps be able to see that he has made a 
slight mistake in telling the workers to stimulate the 
wants of the rich. 

There was once a wise man who said the happiness of 
a people consists not in the abundance of their riches, but 
in the fewness of their wants. 

His Grace of Argyll has found us a new reading. The 
happiness of a people consists in the multitude of their 
wants. 

I should advise the people to devote all their labor to 
satisfying their own wants; not to stimulating the wants 
of others. Men cannot exist upon wants; they exist upon 
food. And it is simple enough, even for a Duke to see, 
that the more wants a people have the harder will they 
have to work to supply them. And when one class culti¬ 
vates the wants and the other class labors to satisfy them, 
why-? 

What a lot of foggy thinkers there are in the world to be 
sure. Just look for a moment at this pamphlet. It is 
called “The Functions of Wealth,” and is by W. II. 
Mallock. Here is a pretty sentence:— 

That wealth, which is envied by so many, and which is looked upon 
doubtfully by so many more, so far from being the cause of want amongst 
thousands, is at this moment the cause of the non-starvation of millions. 

Which means that it is the rich idlers who keep the 
working poor, and not the working poor who keep the idle 
rich. 

Mr. Mallock, in another place—he is explaining that 
it is an error to think one man’s wealth is another’s want 
—says:— 

Let us take, for instance, a large and beautiful cabinet, for which a rich 
man of taste pays two thousand pounds. The cabinet is of value to him, for 
reasons which we will consider presently; as possessed by him it consti- 

14 



210 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


tutes a portion of his wealth. But how could such a piece of wealth be 
distributed ? Not only is it incapable of physical partition and distribu¬ 
tion, but, if taken from the rich man and given to the poor man, the latter 
is not the least enriched by it. Put a priceless buhl cabinet into an Irish 
laborer’s cottage, and it will probably only add to his discomforts; or if he 
finds it useful, it will only be because he keeps his pigs in it. A picture by 
Titian, again, may be worth thousands, but it is worth thousands only to 
the man who can enjoy it. 

Now, isn’t that a precious piece of nonsense ? There 
are two things to he said about that rich man’s cabinet. 
The first is that it was made by some workman who, if he 
had not been so employed, might have been producing 
what would be useful to the poor. So that the cabinet 
has cost the poor something. The second is that a price¬ 
less buhl cabinet can be divided. Of course, it would be 
folly to hack it into shavings and serve them out amongst 
the mob; but if that cabinet is a thing of beauty and 
worth the seeing, it ought to be taken from the rich bene¬ 
factor, whose benefaction consists in his having plundered 
it from the poor, and it ought to be put into a public 
museum where thousands could see it, and where the rich 
man could see it also if he chose. This, indeed, is the prop¬ 
er way to deal with all works of art, and this is one of 
the rich man’s greatest crimes—that he keeps hoarded up 
in his house a number of things that ought to be the com¬ 
mon heritage of the people. 

Every article of luxury has to be paid for not in money , 
but in labor. Every glass of wine drunk by my lord, and 
every diamond star worn by my lady, has to be paid for 
with the sweat and the tears of the poorest of our people. 
I believe it is a literal fact that many of the artificial flowers 
worn at court, are actually stained with the tears of the 
famished and exhausted girls who make them. 

It is often asserted that the Capitalist is as necessary 
to the Laborer as the Laborer is to the Capitalist, and 
we are asked, therefore, 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


211 


How are we going to do without the Capitalist ? 

This question is based upon a confusion of thought as 
to the meanings of the two terms, Capital and Capitalist. 

The Pope in his Encyclical falls into this muddle. He 
states the Labor Question as “ The problem of how to ad¬ 
just the respective claims of capital and labor.” 

But to talk about the respective claims of capital and 
labor is as absurd as to talk about the respective claims 
of coal and colliers, or engines and engine-drivers. 

There is a vast difference between capital and the capi¬ 
talist. Capital is necessary; but capitalists are not neces¬ 
sary. 

What do we mean by the word capital? There are 
many definitions of the word. But it will suffice for us to 
say that capital means the material used in the produc¬ 
tion and distribution of wealth. That is to say, under the 
term capital we include land, factories, canals, railways, 
machinery, and money. 

But the capitalist is not capital. He is the person 
who owns capital. He is the person who lends capital. 
He is the person who charges interest for the use of capital. 

This “ capital ” which he lends at usury ! He did not 
produce it. He does not use it. He only charges for it.* 

Who did produce the capital ? All capital is produced 
by labor. Who does use the capital ? Capital cannot be 
used except by labor. 

To say that we could not work without capital is as true 
as to say that we could not mow without a scythe. To 
say that we could not work without a capitalist is as false 
as to say that we could not mow a meadow unless all the 
scythes belonged to one man. Nay, it is as false as to say 
that we could not mow unless all the scythes belonged to 
one man and he took a third of the harvest as payment 
for the loan of them. 


212 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


Instances. There is valuable capital in the British 
Telegraphs; but there is no capitalist. The telegraph is 
a Socialistic institution. The State draws the revenues 
from the people , and the State administers the work. In 
our State Departments, the Municipal Departments, there 
is much capital, but there are no capitalists. The man¬ 
ager of a mine is necessary, the owner of a mine is not 
necessary; the captain of a ship is useful, the owner of 
a ship is useless. 

These are undeniable proofs , as are the roads we walk 
on, and the lamps that light our way, that “ capital ” and 
“ capitalist ” are not convertible terms. 

Mr. Hart, in his pamphlet of Constitutional Socialism, 
puts the case against the capitalist very clearly. He says:— 

The practicability of Socialism can nevertheless be demonstrated by the 
present practical working of huge institutions in commerce, industry, and 
agriculture, which are gradually ruining many smaller ones. These enter¬ 
prises derive their capital either from a gigantic capitalist or from a lot of 
shareholders, who know nothing about the business themselves, and who 
simply pay managers and clerks or manual workers to do the work for 
them. Now, whether there are 8,000 of these shareholders in a country, 
or 80 , 000 , or 8 , 000 , 000 , that does not affect the question, which is : Can 
shareholders find managers to produce, transport, and sell wealth for 
them ? Answer: yes, as it is being done at present. 

Moreover, if it is practical for these managers and their dependents to 
conduct business in a state of competition, with the risk of being ruined by 
the intrigues or inventions of their rivals, a fortiori would it be practical 
for such managers and dependents to conduct business when this risk no 
longer existed, and when they had simply to produce a certain number of 
goods, according to the demand, and then to transport these goods, to 
shops or stores for sale ? 

And so much for the question of how can Labor dispense 
with Capitalists. 

One more question, and I may conclude this chapter:— 
Will not the spread of Socialistic ideas tend to 
alarm the capitalist, and so cause him to take 
his capital out of the country ? 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


213 


Take his capital out of the country! He might take 
himself out of the country, and he would doubtless take 
all the portable property he could carry. But the country 
could bear the loss. Let me quote once more from John 
Stuart Mill:— 

When men talk of the ancient wealth of a country, of riches inherited 
from ancestors, and similar expressions, the idea suggested is, that the 
riches so transmitted were produced long ago, at the time when they are 
said to have been first acquired, and that no portion of the capital of a 
country was produced this year except so much as may have been this year 
added to the total amount. The fact is far otherwise. 

The greater part in value of the wealth now existing in England has 
been produced by human hands within the last twelve months. A very 
small proportion indeed of that large aggregate was in existence ten years 
ago; of the present productive capital of the country scarcely any part, 
except farm houses and factories, and a few ships and machines, and even 
these would not in most cases have survived so long, if fresh labor had not 
been employed within that period in putting them into repair. 

The land subsists, and the land is almost the only thing that subsists. 
Everything which is produced perishes, and most things very quickly. 

Capital is kept in existence from age to age, not by preservation, but by 
perpetual reproduction. 

This threat about the capitalist taking his capital out 
of the country is a common one. It is always used when 
workmen strike against a reduction of wages. It was 
used during the cotton strike, and during the coal 
strike. 

Now just fancy the mill owners and the coal owners tak¬ 
ing their capital out of the country. They might take 
some of their machinery ; they could not take their mills, 
nor their mines. The threat is nonsense. 

Imagine the landlords and capitalists, the shareholders 
and dividend-mongers, marching off with the farms, and 
Helds, and streets; the mills and mines; the railways and 
quarries and canals. 

No: let the capitalist go when he will; he must leave 
England and the English behind him, and they will suffice 


214 


MER1UE ENGLAND. 


for each other. It is the capitalist who keeps them apart, 
paralyzing both, and helping neither. 

A more idiotic assumption was never made than this 
assumption that the wasting of wealth by the idle rich is 
a good thing for the laboring poor. Follow it out to its 
logical conclusion, John Smith, and assure yourself that 
the drunkard is a benefactor to the workers because he 
finds much “useful employment” for the coopers, hop- 
growers, maltsters and others who are doomed to waste 
their time in the production of the drink which slakes 
his swinish thirst. 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


215 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

MINOR QUESTIONS. 

Two ship-captains were wrangling together, when Captain A twitted 
Captain B with starving his crew. 

“ Come,” retorted B, “ yours is a proper ship, indeed. Why, I hear that 
the forecastle mess had no mustard.” 

“ Granted,” replied A, “ and I wish we may get some in time. But do 
not let that drive out of your mind the fact that your sailors have no 
beef.” 

Mokal: He who would remove the mote from his neighbor’s eye, 
should first pluck the beam from his own .—Clarion Fable. 

In this chapter I propose to answer a few of those ques¬ 
tions which are so often put to Socialist writers and 
lecturers. 

1. Under Socialism : What will you do with your 
loafers ? 

Before I answer this question allow me to offer a few 
hints to young Socialists. The opponents of Socialism 
appear to suppose that if they can suggest any difficulty, 
however trivial, which may arise in the working of our 
system, they have disposed of the whole matter. Very 
many ardent but inexperienced young Socialists fall into 
the error of trying to prove that Socialism and Heaven 
are the same thing. 

Both sides should remember that Socialism is not 
offered as a perfect system of life, but only as very great 
improvement upon the system under which we now live. 

The question, then, is not whether Socialism is the best 
thing man can conceive, but whether Socialism is better 
than our present method of life. 


216 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


Therefore, when a critic asks a young Socialist whether 
a certain evil will exist under Socialism, let the Socialist 
immediately ask his critic whether the same evil exists now. 

So in the case of the loafer. Many over-confident, 
but not very profound, critics, demand triumphantly, 
“What will you do with your loafers?” 

To them I say, “ What do you do with your loafers ?” 

The word loafer, I take it, means one who loafs or 
sponges upon the earnings of other people. 

A loafer, then, may be an idle tramp without a shirt to 
his back, or he may be an idle peer with a rent-roll of 
half a million a year. 

It is stated in one of the Fabian tracts—“Facts for 
Socialists ”—that there are something like a million of 
adult males in receipt of large incomes who never do any 
kind of work at all. 

Under Socialism these men might continue idle; but 
they would certainly not continue rich, nor would they 
continue to be known as “ gentlemen.” 

But besides the millions of well-paid and well-fed 
loafers who are at present supported upon the earn¬ 
ings of the poor, there are now in this country immense 
numbers of paupers, beggars, tramps, and criminals, as 
well as a large army of unemployed workers. 

Now before I tell you what would be done with all these 
people under Socialism, I must tell you what is done with 
them now. 

Do you suppose that society does not support these 
loafers? But they live; and what do they live on? 

All wealth is won by labor, is it not? Then all the 
tramps, thieves, paupers, and beggars live upon poor- 
rates, plunder, alms, or prison allowances, and all these 
means of support are earned by the labor of the working 
poor. 


MEBRIE ENGLAND. 


217 


But under your present system you not only feed and 
house these loafers, but you go to the expense of masters, 
matrons, doctors, warders, and police, all of whom have 
to be fed and paid to wait upon or attend to the loafers. 

Next, with regard to the unemployed. These people 
exist; and they exist in enforced idleness, and at the 
expense of those who work. 

Note one or two facts. These people do nothing for 
their own support, and many of them, through want and 
shame, and forced idleness, become criminals or tramps. 

This is not only a waste of wealth, and a waste of power, 
it is also a most wicked and disgraceful waste of human 
souls. 

Now, let us see how things would work out under 
Socialism. We will divide our loafers into two classes. 
Those who could work and will not, and those who would 
work and cannot. 

So long as it is possible for a willing worker to be forced 
into idleness, so long will there exist a reason for the 
giving of alms. 

Why do we relieve a tramp on the road, or a beggar in 
the street ? It is because we are never sure that the man 
is a loafer; because we always fear that his penury 
may be due to misfortune, and not to idleness. But under 
Socialism this doubt would disappear. Under Socialism 
there would be work for all. Therefore, under Socialism 
every man who was able to work would be able to live. 
This fact being universally known no able-bodied man 
could exist without work. A beggar or a tramp would be 
inevitably a loafer, and not a hand would be held out to 
help him. 

The answer to the able-bodied beggar would be “ If you 
are hungry go and work.” If the man refused to work 
he must starve. 


218 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


The answer, then, to the question of what Socialists 
would do with the loafers is, that under Socialism we 
should oblige the loafer to work or perish ; whereas, under 
present conditions, we either make him into a “ gentle¬ 
man ” or a pauper, or a beggar, or a thief; in any one of 
which capacities he is allowed to live in idleness upon the 
• labor of other men. 

Tell me, is it not true of Merrie England to-day that the 
idlest are the richest, and the most industrious the poor¬ 
est amongst the people? Well, I want you to remind 
your critics of these things when they ask you what 
Socialists will do with their loafers. 

Let us take another question. 

2. Under Socialism: Who will do the disagreeable 
work ? Who will do the scavenging f 

This question is an old friend of mine, and I have come 
to entertain for it a tender affection. I have seldom heard 
an argument or read an adverse letter or speech against 
the claims of justice in social matters, but our friend the 
scavenger played a prominent part therein. Truly, the 
scavenger is a most important person. Yet one would 
not suppose that the whole cosmic scheme revolved 
on him as on an axis; one would not imagine him to be 
the keystone of European society—at least his appearance 
and his wages would not justify such an assumption. 
But I begin to believe that the fear of the scavenger is 
really the source and fountain-head, the life and blood 
and breath of all conservatism. Good old scavenger. 
His ash-pan is the bulwark of capitalism, and his besom 
the standard around which rally the pride and the 
culture and the opulence of society. And he never knew 
it; he does not know it now. If he did he would strike 
for another penny a day. 

We have heard a good deal of more or less clumsy 


MEBBIE ENGLAND. 


219 


ridicule at the expense of the Socialist. We have heard 
learned and practical men laugh them to scorn ; we have 
seen their claims and their desires and their theories held 
up to derision. But can any man imagine a sight more 
contemptible or more preposterous than that of a civilized 
and wealthy nation coming to a halt in its march of 
progress for fear of disturbing the minds of the scaven¬ 
gers ? 

Shades of Cromwell, of Langton, of Washington and of 
Hampden! Imagine the noble lord at the head of the 
British Government awing a truculent and Radical Parlia¬ 
ment into silence by thundering out the terrible menace, 
“ Touch the dustman, and you destroy the Empire. Yet, 
when the noble lord talks about “ tampering with the 
laws of political economy,” and “ opening the floodgates 
of anarchy,” it is really the scavenger that is in his mind, 
although the noble lord may not think so himself, noble 
lords not being always very clear in their reasonings. 
For just as Mrs. Partington sought to drive back the 
ocean with a mop, so does the Conservative hope to drive 
back the sea of progress with the scavenger’s broom. 

For an answer to this question I must refer you back to 
my chapter on Socialism and Slavery. But the whole 
subject has, I find, been very clearly and ably dealt with 
by Mrs. Besant in her excellent paper on “ The Organiza¬ 
tion of Society ” in the Fabian Essays. Mrs. Besant 
says:— 

There are unpleasant and indispensable forms of labor which, one would 
imagine, can attract none—mining, sewer-cleaning, etc. These might be 
rendered attractive by making the hours of labor in them much shorter 
than the normal working day of pleasanter occupations. . . . 

Further, much of the most disagreeable and laborious work might be 
done by machinery, as it would be now if it were not cheaper to exploit a 
helot class. When it became illegal to send small boys up chimneys, 
chimneys did not cease to be swept; a machine was invented for sweeping 
them. 


220 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


The same idea is expressed in Bellamy’s “ Looking 
Backward.” 

In the army the various duties are taken in turns. 
Guard duty, piquet duty, and the numerous laborious or 
unpleasant tasks known as “ fatigue ” are done by parties 
of men told off for the jmrpose, and no man can escape 
his share. 

And how is this work done to-day ? Clearly we all 
recognize that scavenging is unpleasant work. Clearly 
we all agree that no man would do it from choice. But 
some men do it, and the inference is that they do it on 
compulsion. They do it, and are made to work long 
hours for low wages, and are despised for their pains. 

This is gross tyranny and gross injustice, but it is only 
another example of the meanness, the selfishness, and the 
dishonesty of those whom we falsely call the refined and 
superior classes. It is amusing to hear that a man is 
“ too much of a gentleman ” to empty his own ashpit, 
when the truth is that he is not enough of a gentleman 
to refuse to allow his fellow-citizen to empty it for him. 
Under Socialism snobbery will perish. And when snob¬ 
bery is dead, gentility will be ready for burial. 

Another common question is :— 

3. Under Socialism: Would the frugal workman 
lose his house and savings ? 

First, as to the savings. M. Richter, in his foolish 
pamphlet, “ Pictures of the Future,” makes the people 
revolt because a Socialistic Government has nationalized 
their savings. 

Now, we will assume that such a thing happened, and 
that the deposits in the banks were nationalized. Would 
the frugal workman lose by that? I say he would 
not. 

It is true that at present the frugal workman only gets 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 221 

about one-third of his earnings. Under Socialism he 
would get all his earnings. 

But why does the frugal workman save ? He saves 
against a “ rainy day.” Because if he fall ill, or live to 
be old and infirm, he will have to go to the workhouse 
unless he has saved. 

But under Socialism he need have no fear. No man 
would be left destitute or helpless in his old age. The 
sick would be cared for, the widows and orphans would 
be cherished and defended. 

You know that many men now pay high premiums to 
insurance companies. This is to provide for their widows 
and children. Under Socialism the State would provide 
for the widows and children. 

That is to say that Socialism is the finest scheme of 
life insurance ever yet devised. 

Suppose you had by dint of great care succeeded in 
saving two or three hundred pounds. Would you not 
cheerfully pay that for a State promise of support for 
yourself when old—of ample and honorable support—and 
of support and education for your children after your 
death ? 

But I don’t think it is at all likely that a Socialist 
State would take the worker’s savings. 

And again I ask you to turn your attention to the 
present system, under which every worker is robbed of 
two-thirds of all he earns. 

Then as to the worker’s cottage. Assuming that he 
has bought it with his savings, and assuming that the 
State nationalized it. What then? A workman now 
buys a house that he and his children may be sure of a 
home. 

Under Socialism every man would be sure of a home. 

Once more consider our present system. A few men 


222 


MEEEIE ENGLAND. 


own their own houses. But the great bulk of the people 
cannot own a foot of land. 

When I was in Ireland I visited some “ estates ” upon 
the Galtee Hills. I saw farms which had been made by 
the “ tenants.” I*aw places where the peasants had gone 
up into the bleak hills, where the limestone blocks lay 
thick and only a thin layer of sandy turf covered the 
rock, and had spent twenty years in making the land. 
They removed the boulders, they dug soil in the valleys, 
and carried it up the steeps in baskets; they bought 
manure and lime and they built their own hovels out of 
mud and stones. 

And then the estate and houses were the property of 
the landlord, and he raised their rents from 200 to 500 
per cent. 

And we are asked whether Socialism would rob the 
frugal worker of his home ! 

It is strange that men should attach importance to 
such trivial points as these; but yet I believe that these 
small errors are a great hindrance to the spread of So¬ 
cialism. 

Here is another droll question :— 

4. Under Socialism : Who would get the salmon, 
and who would get the red-herrings ? 

Let us follow the system I suggested, and reverse the 
question. Who gets the salmon and who gets the red- 
lierrings now ? 

Is it not true that the salmon and all other delicacies 
are monopolized by the idle, while the coarse food falls 
to the lot of the worker ? 

Perhaps under Socialism the salmon might be eaten by 
those who catch it. At present it is not. 

Or perhaps the dainties would be reserved for invalids 
and old people, or for delicate women and children. 


M till II IE ENGLAND. 


223 


But certainly we should not see a lot of big, fat, strong 
aldermen gorging turtle and champagne while frail girls 
worked sixteen hours a day on a diet of crusts and coffee. 

It is quite possible that even under Socialism there 
might not be enough salmon and pineapple for all. But 
it is quite certain that there would be enough bread and 
beef and tea for all, which there certainly is not now. 

And so much for that question; and, if you care to 
follow it out more fully, I must refer you to my answer 
to Richter’s “ Pictures of the Future.” 


224 


MEIIR1E ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

PAID AGITATORS. 

You will find, if you think deeply of it, that the chief of all the curses of 
this unhappy age is the universal gabble of its fools, and of the flocks that 
follow them, rendering the quiet voices of the wise men of all past time 
inaudible.— Buskin. 

The capitalist Press, probably because they cannot con¬ 
trovert the theory of Socialism, are in the habit of abusing 
Socialists. Socialist writers and Socialist speakers, and 
very often Trade Union leaders, are commonly described 
as “ Paid Agitators; ” and our Labor papers are charged 
with “ pandering to the worst passions of the mob,” and 
with “ battening on the earnings of ignorant dupes.” 

This is pretty much the same kind of language as 
that which the Press employed against John Bright, 
Ernest Jones, C. S. Parnell, Charles Bradlaugh, and 
other advanced reformers. It is the kind of language 
which reformers expect from the Press, and also, I am 
sorry to say, from the Church. It is the natural language 
of shallow, or timid or interested people, who are startled 
by the dreadful apparition of a new idea. 

The agitator is not a nice man. He disturbs the general 
calm ; he shakes old and rotten institutions with a rude 
hand ; he drags into the light of day some loathsome and 
dangerous abuse which respectable rascality or cowardly 
conservatism has carefully covered up and concealed under 
a film of humbug. He tramples upon venerable shams; 
he injures old-established reputations; he bawls out 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


225 


shameful truths from the house-tops; he is fierce and 
noisy; uses strong language, and very often in his rage 
against wrong or in the heat of his grief over unmerited 
suffering, he mixes his own truth with error, and carries 
his righteous denunciations to the point of injustice. 
The privileged classes hate him; the oppressed classes 
do not understand him; the lazy classes shun him as a 
pest. He finds himself standing, likelshmael, with every 
man’s hand against him. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes compares the dawning of a 
new idea to the turning over of a stone in a field. After 
describing all the blind and wriggling creatures who live 
beneath the stone, he says :— 

But no sooner is the stone turned and the wholesome light of day let in 
upon this compressed and blinded community of creeping things, than all 
of them which enjoy the luxury of legs—and some of them have a good 
many—rush round wildly, butting each other aud everything in their way, 
and end in a general stampede for underground retreats from the region 
poisoned by sunshine. . . . You never need think you can turn over 
any old falsehood without a terrible squirming and scattering of the hor¬ 
rid little population that dwells under it. 

Every real thought on every real subject knocks the wind out of some¬ 
body or other. As soon as his breath comes back he very probably begins 
to expend it in hard words. These are the best evidences a man can have 
that he has said something it was time to say. 

But though the agitator is not a nice man, he is a use¬ 
ful man. Your pleasant, cultured, courteous, easy gen¬ 
tleman is a nice man, but he is the unconscious upholder 
of all that is bad, as well as of a little that is good. 

There was a time when women were tortured for witch¬ 
craft ; when prisoners were tortured into the confession 
of crimes of which they were innocent; when good men 
and women were burnt alive for being unable to believe 
the dogmas of other men’s religion; when authors had 
their ears cut off for telling the truth; when English 
children were worked to death in the factories; when 
*5 


226 


ME BRIE ENGLAND. 


starving workmen were hanged for stealing a little food; 
when boards of capitalists and landlords fixed the workers’ 
wages; when Trade Unionism was conspiracy, and only 
rich men had votes. Those days are gone; those crimes 
are impossible; those wrongs are abolished. And for 
these changes we have to thank the agitators. 

The agitators, from Christ downwards, have been the 
salt of the earth. It is only such as they who save 
society from dry rot and putrefaction. 

Then, again, there is the practical hard-headed man 
who always comes forward to prove every new tiling 
impossible. We English have done many impossible 
things. Was it not demonstrated to the general satis¬ 
faction of the hard-headed ones that Stephenson could 
not make a train go twelve miles an hour? Was it not 
proved that railways would exterminate horses? Was it 
not proved that the Atlantic cable could not be laid ? 
Was it not made manifest that the Catholic Emancipation 
Acts, the Ballot Act, the Factory Acts, and the Repeal 
of the Corn Laws would plunge the nation into Popery, 
and anarchy, and ruin? Yet all these reforms were 
accomplished b}^ little bands of agitators, in the face of 
tremendous opposition, and in spite of yells of execration, 
and virulent charges of “battening ” and “incendiarism.” 
To return to oar own time. There were never any men 
more virulently assailed than are the present leaders of the 
Labor movement. The favorite lie is the charge of 
charlatanism. The man who conducts a strike or or¬ 
ganizes a trade union is alluded to by the Press as a 
“ paid agitator; ” the Labor paper is accused of “ batten¬ 
ing on the earnings of ignorant dupes.” 

When a paper calls a man a paid agitator, what does 
the charge imply? It implies that he is a liar and a 
rogue, who is preaching what he knows to be false and 


MERR IE ENGLAND. 


227 


preaching it for the sake of making money. So when a 
writer is accused of battening on the earnings of ignorant 
dupes, he is accused of wilfully gulling poor men for the 
sake of profit. 

Such charges are uttered and reiterated with such 
malicious persistence, that thousands of worthy people 
have come to believe that the “ paid agitator ” has an easy 
and lucrative trade, and that the Labor paper is rolling 
in ill-gotten wealth as the result of its deliberate treachery 
to the poor. 

Now, I will simply confront the slanders with the facts. 

If Labor leaders were dull and incapable men, who 
could not hope to make money and position except as 
demagogues; if the work of the paid agitator were easy 
and showed no signs of zeal and talent, if the “ paid 
agitator ” and the Labor writer preached only to ignorant 
people, if they preached doctrines which could not be 
maintained, against the cleverest and best informed 
leaders of the parties of privilege and plunder, if the 
salaries of the “paid agitators ” and the “ Labor writers” 
were high and their lives luxurious and easy, then there 
might be as much ground to suspect the bona fides of 
these men as there now is to suspect the bond fides of 
professional patriots, and of pressmen, who are bound by 
the tenets of their agreements always to prove Mr. Glad¬ 
stone in the right, or always to prove him in the wrong. 

But if “ paid agitators ” and Labor writers are proved 
to be men of industry and ability, who choose the thorny 
path instead of the flowery one; if their doctrines can 
withstand successfully all the attacks of their enemies; 
if they can be shown to be living sparely, working hard, 
and earning very little, then it seems to me it will be 
unnecessary to defend their honor against the furtive 
slanders of nameless and incompetent writers who are 


228 


MERRJE ENGLAND. 


well paid, and who do sell their consciences in the open 
market and to the highest bidder. 

It is a very effective picture, that of the paid agitator 
feasting on champagne and turtle or of the Labor writer 
driving his carriage along the Brighton promenade. But 
it has the fault common to Press pictures—it is a lie. 

Let us begin with the paid agitator. Is the trade so easy ? 
Is it so well paid ? Take John Burns. lie is an engineer. 
Being a good workman John Burns could earn two pounds 
a week easily and not work more than fifty-five hours. 
Now, I don’t believe John has averaged two pounds a week 
as a Labor leader; and his wages have not been promptly 
paid; and I can remember an appeal for subscriptions to 
raise his present income of one pound a week, paid by the 
Dockers’ Union, to two pounds; while as far as work is 
concerned, his labor is endless and his working hours are 
all the hours he can spare from sleep. 

The first time I saw him was during the Glasgow strike. 
He had made five long speeches that day. He was so 
hoarse that I could hardly hear him speak. He looked 
utterly fagged out, and at night he went to a second-rate 
temperance hotel and had weak tea and bread and butter 
for supper. This is not so fine a picture as the other ; 
but it is true. 

A paid agitator gets hard work, low pay, ingratitude, 
and vilification. He will be an old man before his time ; 
but a rich man never. 

So much for the paid agitator. Now as to the Labor 
papers. We are confronted with the assertion that we 
batten on the earnings of misguided dupes. The men 
who write for the party papers do not batten on the mis¬ 
guided dupes. The rank and file of the political parties 
are not dupes. 

They are intelligent and discerning men. The writers 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


229 


on the party press are not hireling hacks. They are 
honorable men. It is merely a coincidence that their con¬ 
sciences always happen to fit in with the exigencies of 
the party situation. They are quite different from the 
Labor writer. He “ panders to the mob.” He battens 
on the foolish. He rolls in ill-gotten wealth. 

Well, let some of the superior pressmen try it. Let 
them seek out the “ dupes’’and go in for “ battening.” 
They will find that the “ dupe ” does not yield much 
“ batten ” to the square inch. They will very soon have 
cause to sing the song of the disappointed Pirate— 

We boiled Bill Jones in the negro-pot, 

To see how much fat Bill Jones had got, 

But there wasn’t much fat upon Jones. 


To prove that all Labor writers are honest and earnest 
men may be difficult; but to prove that the British work¬ 
man is not in the habit of bestowing his money on Labor 
leaders and Labor writers is quite easy. 

Does the Labor journalist wallow in the wages of the 
worker ? Not a wallow. 

You leave that to the worker. He has money for beer, 
he has money for betting, he has money for parsons, he 
has money for missionaries, he has money for party 
politics, but he does not like his champions and his serv¬ 
ants to get fat and lazy, and he takes precious good care 
they don’t. 

Proofs ? Certainly. In bulk. No Labor paper ever 
yet paid its way. No Socialistic paper ever paid its way. 
There is not a single Labor leader nor a single Labor 
writer in England to-day who is getting one-half the 
wages he could earn if he turned his back on Socialism 
forever, and went in for making money. Not one. 

Mr. Cunninghame Graham is a Labor leader. I don’t 


230 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


suppose lie ever made a five-pound note out of the cause. 
I know lie lias spent above a hundred five-pound notes, 
besides his time, in the cause. 

Mr. de Mattos is a Fabian lecturer. He spends his 
whole time in lecturing on Socialism. He never gets a 
penny of pay. 

Mr. Charles Bradlaugli was literally crushed to death, 
killed by debts contracted in fighting the battles of the 
democracy. The democracy let him die. 

None of these men seem to have wallowed very deep in 
the earnings of their “ dupes.” But I hear that the 
Times and the Telegrajih pay their writers well. Comic 
Cuts and the Police News are making fortunes. Messrs. 
Gladstone, Goschen, Salisbury, and Balfour get a decent 
living as politicians, and I have no doubt that Mr. Schnad- 
horst receives a better salary than John Burns. 

There is nothing pays an English paper better than 
racing reports, betting tips, and prurient details of divorce 
trials. A Socialist paper will not stoop to any of these 
dirty ways of making mone 3 r . 

I commend these facts to the dailies. They write 
articles against gambling and print the tips, the betting and 
the stock and share lists. They are honorable men. 

If any of our readers have an idea that Socialism is a 
paying trade, I hope they will do us the justice to abandon 
that idea at once. Socialism is in its infancy as a cause. 
Socialism is not popular. The Socialists are few in 
number. Twenty years hence all this will be changed, 
and then the dailies will discover that early Socialists, 
though crude thinkers, were useful in preparing the 
public mind for the great utterances of the press. In fact 
we are preparing the ground for the harvest which other 
men shall reap. So mote it be. 

The Pope calls the pioneers of Socialism, “ crafty agi- 


ME RE IE ENGLAND. 


231 


tators.” That word crafty implies that these “ agitators ” 
are seeking their own ends. I know many Socialists, and 
many Socialistic leaders. I know none who can make 
profit of it. Most of the leaders, such as Ruskin, 
Morris, Hyndman, Carpenter, Shaw, De Mattos, Annie 
Besant, and Bland, would lose in money and position 
were Socialism adopted now. 

We Socialists don’t complain about these things, but 
we respectfully submit the evidence to the jury, and ask 
for a verdict of acquittal on the charge of “ Battening.” 
We claim that we give our time and strength to the poor 
and that we get but little in return but suspicion, and 
envy, and slander. God bless the poor, say I, and pity 
them. They are hard task-masters, and as thankless as 
they are foolish, but they cannot help it, poor creatures, 
and we hope to do them good. 


232 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

LABOR REPRESENTATION. 

The practice of modern Parliaments, with reporters sitting among them 
and twenty-seven millions, mostly fools, listening to them, Alls me with 
amazement.— Carlyle. 

Being a practical man, John, you will naturally say to 
me that haying told you what I believe to be the true 
solution of the Social Problem, I ought to show some plan 
for working that solution out. 

I think that the best way to realize Socialism is—to 
make Socialists. I have always maintained that if we can 
once get the people to understand how much they are 
wronged we may safely leave the remedy in their own 
hands. My work is to teach Socialism, to get recruits for 
the Socialist Army. I am not a general, but a recruiting 
sergeant. The most useful thing you can do is to join the 
recruiting staff yourself, and enlist as many volunteers as 
possible. Give us a Socialistic people, and Socialism will 
accomplish itself. 

However, I may as well say a few words on the subject 
of Labor representation. The old struggles have been for 
political emancipation. The coming struggle will be for 
industrial emancipation. We want England for the 
English. We want the fruits of Labor for those who pro¬ 
duce them. This issue is not an issue between Liberals 
and Tories, it is an issue between Laborers and Capitalists. 
Neither of the Political Parties is of any use to the workers, 
because both the Political Parties are paid, officered and led 
by Capitalists whose interests are opposed to the interests 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


233 


of the workers. The Socialist laughs at the pretended 
friendship of Liberal and Tory leaders for the workers. 
These Party Politicians do not in the least understand what 
the rights, the interests, or the desires of the workers are ; 
if they did understand they would oppose them implacably. 
The demand of the Socialist is a demand for the national¬ 
ization of the land and all other instruments of production 
and distribution. The Party leaders will not hear of such 
a thing. If you want to get an idea how utterly destitute 
of sympathy with Labor the present House of Commons 
is, just read the reports of the speeches made on the occa¬ 
sion when Keir Hardie opposed the vote of congratulation 
on the Royal marriage, or when he and other Labor 
members raised the question of the employment of troops 
at Hull ; or notice the attitude of the Party Press towards 
Socialism, Trade Unionism, Independent Labor Candi¬ 
dates, and the leaders of strikes. It is a very common 
thing to hear a Party Leader deprecate the increase of 
“ class representation.” What does that mean ? It means 
Labor representation. But the “ class ” concerned in 
Labor representation is the working class, a “ class ” of 
some twenty-seven millions of people. Observe the calm 
effrontery of this sneer at “ class representation.” The 
twenty-seven millions of workers are not represented by 
more than a dozen members. The other classes—the 
landlords, the capitalists, the military, the law, the brewers, 
and idle gentlemen—are represented by something like six 
hundred and fifty members. This is class representation 
with a vengeance. 

And, mind you, this disproportion exists not only in 
Parliament, but in all county and municipal institutions. 
How many working men are there on the County Coun¬ 
cils, the Boards of Guardians, the School Boards, and the 
Town Councils? 


234 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


The Capitalists, and their hangers-on, not only make 
the laws—they administer them. Is it any wonder, then, 
that laws are made and administered in the interests of 
the Capitalist ? And does it not seem reasonable to sup¬ 
pose that if the laws were made and administered by 
workers, they would be made and administered to the 
advantage of Labor? 

Well, my advice to you working men is to return work¬ 
ing men representatives, with definite and imperative 
instructions, to Parliament and to all other governing 
bodies. 

Some of the old Trade Unionists will tell you that 
there is no need for Parliamentary interference in Labor 
matters. The Socialist does not ask for “ Parliamentary 
interference,” he asks for Government by the people and 
for the people. 

The older unionists think that Trade Unionism is strong 
enough in itself to secure the rights of the worker. This 
is a great mistake. The rights of the worker are the 
whole of the produce of his labor. Trade Unionism not 
only cannot secure that, but has never even tried to secure 
that. The most that Trade Unionism has secured, or can 
ever hope to secure for the workers, is a comfortable sub¬ 
sistence wage. They have not always secured even that 
much, and, where they have secured it, the cost has been 
serious. For the great weapon of Unionism is a strike, 
and a strike is at best a bitter, a painful, and a costly thing. 

Do not think that I am opposed to Trade Unionism. 
It is a good thing; it has long been the only defence of 
the workers against robbery and oppression; were it not 
for the Trade Unionism of the past and of the present, the 
condition of the British industrial classes would be one 
of abject slavery. But Trade Unionism, although some 
defence, is not sufficient defence. 


MERR1E ENGLAND. 


235 


You must remember, also, that the employers have 
copied the methods of Trade Unionism. They also have 
organized and united, and in the future strikes will be 
more terrible and more costly than ever. The Capitalist 
is the stronger. He holds the better strategic position. 
He can always outlast the worker, for the worker has to 
starve and see his children starve, and the Capitalist 
never gets to that pass. Besides, capital is more mobile 
than labor. A stroke of the pen will divert wealth and 
trade from one end of the country to the other; but the 
workers cannot move their forces so readily. 

One difference between Socialism and Trade Unionism 
is that whereas the Unions can only marshal and arm the 
workers for a desperate trial of endurance, Socialism can 
get rid of the Capitalist altogether. The former helps you 
to resist the enemy, the latter destroys him. 

I suggest to you, John, that you should join a Socialist 
Society and help to get others to join, and that you should 
send Socialist workers to sit upon all representative 
bodies. 

The Socialist tells you that you are men, with men’s 
rights, and with men’s capacities for all that is good and 
great—and you hoot him and call him a liar and a fool. 

The Politician despises you, declares that all your suf¬ 
ferings are due to your own vices, that you are incapable 
of managing your own affairs, and that if you were en¬ 
trusted with freedom and the use of the wealth you create 
you would degenerate into a lawless mob of drunken 
loafers, and you cheer him until you are hoarse. 

The Politician tells you that his party is the people’s 
party, and that he is the man to defend your interests, 
and in spite of all you know of his conduct in the past 
you believe him. 

The Socialist begs you to form a party of your own, and 


236 


MERR IE ENGLAND. 


to do your work yourself, and you write him down a 
knave. 

To be a Trade Unionist and fight for your class during 
a strike, and to be a Tory or a Liberal and fight against 
your class at an election is folly. During a strike there 
are no Tories or Liberals amongst the strikers ; they are 
all workers. At election times there are no workers; 
only Liberals and Tories. 

During an election there are Tory and Liberal Capital¬ 
ists, and all of them are friends of the workers. During 
a strike there are no Tories and no Liberals amongst the 
employers. They are all Capitalists and enemies of the 
workers. Is there any logic in you, John Smith ? Is there 
any perception in you ? Is there any sense in you ? 

You never elect an employer as president of a Trades 
Council; or as chairman of a Trade Union Congress; or 
as member of a Trade Union. You never ask an em¬ 
ployer to lead you during a strike. But at election times, 
when you ought to stand by your class, the whole body 
of Trade Union workers turn into black-legs, and fight for 
the Capitalist and against the workers. 

I know that many of these Party Politicians are very 
plausible men, and that they protest very eloquently that 
their party really means to do well for the workers. But 
to those protests there is one unanswerable reply. Even 
if these men are as honest and as zealous as they pretend 
to be, I suppose you are not gullible enough to believe 
that they will do your work as well as you can do it your¬ 
selves. 

I say to you then, once more, John Smith, that the most 
practical thing you can do is to erase the words Liberal 
and Tory from your vocabulary, write Socialist in the 
place and resolve that henceforward you will elect only 
Labor Representatives, and see that they do their duty. 


MEHHIE ENGLAND. 


237 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

IS IT NOTHING TO YOU? 

If you fail in your duty to men, how can you serve spirits? 

He who renovates the people reaches the borders of extreme virtue. 

To know what is just, and not to practice it, is cowardice. 

— Confucius. 

Gold is worth but gold: love’s worth love.— Swinburne. 

Oh my brother, if you only knew 
What to me in these things is understood, 

As it seems to me it would seem to you, 

What was good for the Cause was surely good. 

—Francis Adams. 

When I began these letters, Mr. Smith, I promised to 
put the case for Socialism before you as clearly and as 
plainly as I could, asking you in return to render a verdict 
in accordance with the evidence. 

I have now done the work as well as I could under the 
circumstances; and I leave the matter in your hands. 

“ Merrie England ” is not as lucid, nor as strong, nor as 
complete as I hoped to make it, but it may serve to sug¬ 
gest the wisdom of wider studies. 

A good work of this kind has long been needed. I have 
not had time, nor health, nor opportunity to do it 
thoroughly, but I thought it better to do it as well as I 
could than to wait until I could take a whole year in 
which to do it more thoroughly. 

Perhaps some day I will set to work and do it all over 
again. Meanwhile I ask you to believe that there is a 
great deal more to be said for Socialism than these papers 
of mine contain, and I suggest to you that it would be 


238 


M Eli ME ENGLAND. 


well to read the books I have recommended; firstly, 
because knowledge is always valuable, and secondly, 
because it is your duty as a man and a citizen to under¬ 
stand the society you live in, and to mend it if you can. 

There are very many well-meaning people who, whilst 
owning that much wrong and misery exist, deny their own 
responsibility for any part of them. 

Very commonly we hear men say, “ Yes, it is a pity 
that things are so bad; but it is no fault of ours, and 
nothing we can do will mend them.” 

Now, John, that is a cowardly and dishonest excuse. 
It is the old plea of Cain, “ Am I my brother’s keeper ? ” 
No one can shirk his responsibility. We are none of us 
guiltless when wrong is done. We are all responsible in 
some degree for every crime and sin, and for every grief 
and shame for which or by which our fellow-creatures 
suffer. 

If for instance, the filthy condition of the Salford Docks 
should cause sickness and loss of life, every citizen from 
the highest to the lowest would be responsible for the 
wrong. 

When injustice is done it avails not for a man to plead 
that he cannot prevent it. The fact is he has not tried to 
prevent it, and therein lies his sin. 

The average citizen sees the slums and the sweaters; 
he sees the wretched and the destitute; he knows that 
the weak and innocent are systematically robbed and 
slain; and his one excuse is that he “ cannot help it.” 
Now, John, I ask you, have you tried to help it; or have 
you only lied to yourself by saying no help was possible ? 

Your duty, it seems to me, is clear enough. First of all 
having seen that misery and wrong exist, it is your duty 
to find out why they exist. Having found out why they 
exist it is your duty to seek for means to abolish them. 


MERE IE ENGLAND. 


239 


Having found out the means to abolish them, it is your 
duty to apply these means, or, if you have not yourself 
the power, it is your duty to persuade others to help you. 

Do your duty, John. Do not lie to your soul any more. 
Long have you known that injustice and misery are rife 
amongst the people. If you have not acted upon the 
knowledge it is not because you knew it to be useless so 
to act, but because you were lazy and preferred your ease, 
or because you were selfish and feared to lose your own 
advantage, or because you were heartless and did not 
really feel any pang at sight of the sufferings of others. 

Let us have the truth , John, howsoever painful it may 
be; let us ha vs justice, no matter what the cost. 

Go out into the streets of any big town, and use your 
eyes, John. What do you find? You find some rich 
and idle, wasting unearned wealth to their own shame 
and injury, and the shame and injury of others. You 
find hard-working people packed away in vile unhealthy 
streets. You find little children famished, dirty, and 
half naked outside the luxurious clubs, shops, hotels, and 
theatres. You find men and women overworked and un¬ 
derpaid. You find vice and want and disease cheek by 
jowl with religion and culture and wealth. You find the 
usurer, the gambler, the fop, the finnikin fine lady, and 
you find the starveling, the slave, the vagrant, the 
drunkard, and the harlot. 

Is it nothing to you, John Smith? Are you a citizen? 
Are you a man ? And will not strike a blow for the right 
nor lift a hand to save the fallen, nor make the smallest 
sacrifice for the sake of your brothers and your sisters! 
John, I am not trying to work upon your feelings. This 
is not rhetoric, it is hard fact. Throughout these letters 
I have tried to be plain and practical, and moderate. I 
have never so much as offered you a glimpse of the higher 


240 


MERRIE ENGLAND. 


regions of thought. I have suffered no hint of idealism 
to escape me. I have kept as close to the earth as I could. 
I am only now talking street talk about the common 
sights of the common town. I say that wrong and sorrow 
are here crushing the life out of our brothers and sisters. 
I say that you in common with all men, are responsible 
for the things that are. I say that it is your duty to 
seek the remedy ; and I say that if you seek it you will 
find it. 

These common sights of the common streets, John, are 
very terrible to me. To a man of a nervous temperament, 
at once thoughtful and imaginative, those sights must be 
terrible. The prostitute under the lamps, the baby 
beggar in the gutter, the broken pauper in his livery of 
shame, the weary worker stifling in his filthy slums, the 
wage slave toiling at his task, the sweater’s victim 
“sewing at once, with a double thread, a shroud as well 
as a shirt,” these are dreadful, ghastly, shameful facts 
which long since seared themselves upon my heart. 

All this sin, all this wretchedness, all this pain, in spite 
of the smiling fields and the laughing waters, under the 
awful and unsullied sky. And no remedy! 

These things I saw, and I knew that 1 was responsible 
as a man. Then I tried to find out the causes of the 
wrong and the remedy therefor. It has taken me some 
years, John. But I think I understand it now, and I 
want you to understand it, and to help in your turn to 
teach the truth to others. * 

Sometimes while I have been writing these letters I 
have felt very bitter and very angry. More than once I 
have thought that when I had got through the work I 
would ease my heart with a few lines of irony or invec¬ 
tive. But I have thought better of it. Looking back 
now I remember my own weakness, folly, cowardice. I 


MEERIE ENGLAND. 


241 


have no heart to scorn or censure other men. Charity, 
John, mercy, John, humility, John. We are poor 
creatures, all of us. 

So here is “ Merrie England; ” the earnest though weak 
effort of this poor clod of wayward marl, this little pinch 
of valiant dust. If it does good—well; if not—well. I 
will try again. 

Also, some day, perhaps, I will talk to you not as a 
practical man, but as a human being. I will ask you to 
feel with me the pulsing of the universal heart, to see 
with me the awful eyes of the universal soul, gazing up¬ 
ward, dim and blurred and weary, but full of a wistful 
yearning for the unrevealed and unspeakable glory which 
men call God. 

But these are “ practical ” letters, written with a practi¬ 
cal object, and addressed to practical people. They are 
here republished as a book; and as they have cost me 
some time and trouble in the writing, I ask you, on your 
part, to give a little time and trouble to the reading, and, 
further, if, after that, you think them worth what they 
have cost you, I shall be glad if you will help me by 
recommending them to your friends. 
















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